


cherry bomb

by MaidenMotherCrone



Series: HEX [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - SKAM Fusion, Character Study, Coming of Age, Developing Friendships, F/M, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley Friendship, Infidelity, M/M, POV Ginny Weasley, Quidditch, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-10-02 00:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 72,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20450243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaidenMotherCrone/pseuds/MaidenMotherCrone
Summary: Ginny Weasley used to have friends, but no boyfriend. Now, she’s got no friends, and a boyfriend she isn’t sure she wants. Having massively fucked up her life, Ginny finds herself under the scrutiny of all of Hogwarts for her past mistakes.Until the Ginny Weasley Defence Squad forms, along with friendships and her own sense of self.





	1. SUNDAY, 11:13AM

**Author's Note:**

> "Them old mistakes are gone, I won’t do them no more  
That’s old news, there’s new news, I done did that before  
I turned nothing to something, my comeback on one hunnid"
> 
> -Level Up, Ciara

Ginny Weasley is 15 years. Ginny Weasley is the only girl of seven children. Ginny Weasley is the daughter her mother always wanted—and she tries to be, she really does. Ginny Weasley is a Gryffindor, like every person in her family for the past three generations. Ginny Weasley is a damn good Chaser, though she’s never had the chance to prove it.

Ginny Weasley is alone on the Hogwarts Express on September 1st, the first day of her fifth year.

She isn’t sure what to do at first, staring around at the compartment that she had claimed for her own. Girls giggle as they run down the hallway, catching up loudly about how they spent their summer. Ginny used to have that. She’d made sure she didn’t anymore—_ but, no _. She will not regret her decisions.

She’d decided that long ago.

So, she sits and waits because there is nothing else to do but watch the students that meet up in the corridor, clinging to one another out of neediness or happiness, she doesn’t know. Sometimes, when Ginny’s bored of that, she turns to look out the window to the Platform. She can pick out the parents of first years, _ easily _.

They’re the ones trying not to weep, but they always look just slightly red-eyed.

“Come on, mate? Aren’t you excited? Quidditch Captain!”

Ginny’s brother’s voice is instantly recognizable. She sits up straighter, turns to look out the compartment door again. Her brother is _ always _accompanied by two others.

“Come off it, _ prefect _,” another familiar voice says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” A woman’s voice now. Hermione Granger.

Ginny swallows hard as she stares out the glass. She wonders if Ron will notice her, makes to bang on the window to invite him in. Then, she sees the two trailing behind him. Hermione Granger’s curls take up most of the space around her, a dark mass that perfectly compliments smooth brown skin. She grins up at Ron and then turns to their de facto leader, saying something that makes Ron roll his eyes.

Harry Potter doesn’t even seem to notice her.

Ginny laughs to herself. She isn’t sure why she thinks he would.

Just behind the ‘Golden Trio’, the Death Eaters stalk by. Ginny watches curiously as the Lestrange brothers lead the group, followed by Rosier and Nott, and rounding out the group: the Head Boy, Tom Riddle, and his hanger-on, Bellatrix Black. Bellatrix looks up, sharp and fast, as if she smells blood in the water. She looks through the glass and her purple lips spread to show teeth just a little too white, just a little too sharp. She leans over to whisper to Riddle.

Riddle’s smooth expression doesn’t shift, but Nott and Rosier both break into laughter, casting looks at Ginny. Ginny’s eyes narrow, her mouth tightens, because there isn’t anything she’d like to do more than put Bellatrix Black in her fucking _ place _.

Before she can even think to stand up, the compartment door opens—_ finally _.

“Hey, love.”

Dean Thomas grins at her. Almost immediately, Ginny relaxes into her seat, offering up a slow smile. Dean slides into the compartment and leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

They haven’t had a lot of time to do this outside of the one time that Ginny had snuck off from helping in her brothers’ shop to meet Dean in London. They’d kissed for hours, in alleyways, in Muggle stores, on the street, on the pavement. She’d licked every centimeter of his mouth and didn’t think of anything else.

“Hey, you,” she says when he pulls back. “How was the rest of your summer?”

“Good. Glad to be back, though,” Dean says. He drags his trunk in, and looks over his shoulder. “Give me a hand, mate?”

“Absolutely.” Seamus Finnigan grins behind him, dragging his own trunk in. “Heya, Gin.”

“Hi, Seamus,” she says.

He pushes his way into the compartment, helping Dean heave both trunks over top with as little grunting as possible. Ginny almost yelps when Seamus jostles her, nearly hip checking her in the face to push the heavy trunk overhead. They both seem out of breath when they finally collapse into their seats, Dean tucked against Ginny’s side and Seamus across from her.

“How was your summer?” Ginny asks, looking at Seamus, almost awkwardly.

They’ve spoken before, between illicit Firewhiskeys by the lakeside and strained, charged conversations between Ginny and Dean, when he wasn’t yet hers.

“Good. Spent it with me mum and Dad. Went on vacation too. Venice,” Seamus says with a grin. He leans back in his seat, turning more fully towards Dean. “Magical Venice, mate. It’s insane.”

“Bet it is,” Dean agrees, goodnaturedly. He loops an arm around Ginny’s shoulders, pulling her in against him and she relaxes. “What are you taking this year, by the way?”

“Just about everything. No idea what I want to do, so I took a leaf out of Granger’s book. Ancient Runes, Defence, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration—” Seamus was saying.

Ginny speaks up. “If you take Arithmancy, you could be a curse breaker.”

Seamus looks at her out of surprise.

It’s like they forgot she was there. Ginny swallows her rage and smiles because this is Dean’s best friend, and she wants to be friends with him too. She _ needs _to be friends with him.

“Curse breaking?” Seamus asks.

“Yeah, my older brother is a curse-breaker—” Ginny starts.

Seamus grins. “Which one?” he snorts, breaking out with laughter.

Dean laughs with him until he realizes that she isn’t laughing. He coughs into his fist and leans back in his seat, looking over at Ginny with a lazy smile.

“This will be you next year. Taking as many classes as you can, preparing for NEWTs. You’ll have your career advising meeting too,” Dean says, rubbing his cheek on top of her head, mussing her red hair. “Do you know what you want to do?”

“It’s okay if you don’t. I don’t,” Seamus insists.

Ginny purses her lips and wonders if she wants to tell them about all she wants to do, all she wants to be, all the in-between.

“You’ll figure it out,” Dean insists.

Ginny’s lips twitch. “And you’ll be the first I tell,” she says because she thinks he’s the only one that’ll want to hear. She tilts her chin up, offering her lips.

Dean takes the opportunity, smiling against her lips as Seamus makes a disgusted noise. Kissing Dean is always easy. Ginny falls into the rhythm, the feel of his jawline against her hand, the way he tastes. She ignores everything and focuses on this because it is easy.

It is perfect.

There’s a knock on the glass.

Ginny swallows as she looks through the windowpane of the compartment.

Romilda Vane looks good. She’s not dressed in her robes yet, instead wearing a sturdy pair of high-waisted denim jeans and a t-shirt that Ginny recognizes as one of Dean’s. She’s shaved the right side of her head, curls sweeping over her shoulder. Ginny remembers when they’d talked about doing something like that. That had been the plan that summer, but Ginny’s mum was having none of it, and then Ginny had started talking to Dean, hanging out with Dean and—

“What is she…” Seamus says, voice dragging out.

Romilda tips her chin and then flips Ginny the bird.

She turns, whipping her hair sharply and the continues stalking down the corridor.

Ginny disentangles herself from Dean’s arms, sliding into the corner of the compartment. The air feels heavier, suddenly. She curls up, pulling her knees to her chest, closes her eyes, and tries not to cry. She feels a hand on her knee.

When she looks up, Dean is staring at her with an unbearable amount of kindness. His knuckles rest against her knee, palm facing up. She laces her fingers with his.

It’ll be okay, she tells herself.

Somehow, she doesn’t believe herself.


	2. TUESDAY, 12:59PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which, Ginny makes a friend.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom  
Well, who am I to keep you down?  
It's only right that you should play the way you feel it  
But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness"
> 
> \- Dreams, Fleetwood Mac

Ginny is alone again. She watches Dean and Seamus’ backs as they go off to Potions together, heads bent over the assignment that they’ve already forgotten to complete. She hopes that Snape eviscerates them, and then immediately, she regrets that thought. Seamus looks over his shoulder at her, like he can perform Legilimency, like he knows every crooked turn in her head.

Ginny averts her eyes even though she  _ knows  _ Seamus doesn’t have the wits for casting a third year charm without blowing something up, let alone Legilimency.

She smothers her snort into her hand.

For her trouble, she gets a glare as two Hufflepuff girls sashay past her. They can’t be older than fourth years, but they look at her like she’s killed their owl.

“—sure, that’s her,” the first says, tugging on the end of her blonde locks. She whips her scarf around her neck tighter, even though it’s still too warm for a fucking scarf.

“What a slag,” the second says, clearly not afraid of being overheard.

She’s so not afraid that she makes eye contact with Ginny, lips tilting up into a smirk.

Ginny stops. Takes a breath. Counts to five.

_ One, two, three, four, five _ .

It wouldn’t do to curse a pair of fourth years. It would look bad. She would look worse.

She wonders how they know.

Ginny wonders if they all know.

She pushes it out of her head and looks down at her schedule again, pulling the crumpled parchment out of her bag. The leather is cracked beyond repair, a hand-me-down courtesy of Percy. She thinks she’ll ask for a new bag for Christmas.

Ginny keeps her head down. She’s almost done with the day.

Care of Magical Creatures is her last class before dinner. It’s a double, but she can do it. She exits the castle, going down the long path, staring at the back of the heads going to the same place as she. Smoke winds through the air from the stone chimney at the back of Hagrid’s Hut. She can see Hagrid even from far away, twice the size of one of the taller fifth years, three times as wide.

Her lips quirk into a smile that she can’t help as she watches Hagrid wave his arms in excitement, directing their attention to whatever creature he’s got crawling around. She walks a little faster, because she can hear a pair of Ravenclaw girls, this time, talking about her too. They’re joined by a boy she knows, but doesn’t know the name of.

“Didn’t you hear? She  _ stole  _ him. Dean Thomas. From right under her best friend’s nose,” the boy says because of course, he knows. It’s confirmed. They all know, somehow.

Ginny holds her breath, because it’s not some unknown ‘somehow’. She knows exactly how everyone knows—Romilda could never keep her mouth shut.

“I didn’t steal him,” Ginny says, because she’s feeling a little brave and a little irate. The three Ravenclaw students whip around to stare at her. The boy turns red, but the two girls stare at her like she’s a curious, unknown entity; a stare that’s edged with distrust and disgust. She’s broken ‘girl code’. Enemy in sight. “Did you hear me?”

Her voice is a little louder. She doesn’t stop walking towards them. The boy trips forward, tugging the girls with him. He’s not ready for a confrontation with an angry Ginny Weasley.

“I didn’t steal Dean. I didn’t steal  _ anyone _ . He’s not a toy from Zonko’s. He’s not a book you can check out at the library, either. He’s a person. You can’t steal a person!” Ginny snarls. She flames past them, swallows her rage, as she practically slams through the group of students waiting in front of Hagrid.

She wants to say that Romilda wasn’t even really her friend. Ginny doesn’t because that would be a lie.

She breathes, noisy and hard, nostrils flared. She can feel their eyes on her, but no one is whispering now. They might have heard the last bit. The back of her neck is hot, and she looks up through the fringe of her orange eyelashes.

Hagrid smiles down at her, uneasy. “Alrigh’ there, Ginny?” he asks, gruffly. At least he doesn’t know.

“I’m alright, Hagrid,” Ginny says, and she salutes him. She doesn’t know why.

Hagrid nods, but he looks at her with kind black eyes, like he doesn’t believe her. He doesn’t need to. He won’t ask her in front of the whole class—even Hagrid has more tact than that—and she’ll disappear, float off into nothingness the moment class is dismissed. He’ll probably ask her brother, next time the Golden Trio visits him, if he remembers. Ron probably doesn’t know what’s happening outside of his own fucking arse, let alone what’s going on with Ginny.

“Well, alrigh’, gather round. It’s yer firs’ day so we’ll be focusing on something I thought would be a little int’resting that migh’ be a refresher fer some of you. This is a fire crab, yeh see,” Hagrid begins, gruffly, gesturing for them to forward.

No one moves.

Ginny blinks and then she does because she’s a lot of things, but a coward isn’t one of them. She looks down curiously at the tortoise-like crab creature. It’s huge with six legs and a jewel encrusted shell. It’s beautiful.

“Now, fer yer OWLs, you all will need to know how ter feed and clean out a fire crab’s shell—” Hagrid says as if this is commonly known knowledge. He looks around at all of them, taking a few pale faces, relieved when he sees that Ginny has stepped forward.

Ginny feels someone step up behind her.

“Everyone pair up now. Pair up!” Hagrid commands.

Everyone partners up almost immediately. Last year, Ginny was in Care of Magical Creatures with Romilda. They always partnered. Romilda dropped it.

Ginny still feels that presence behind her. She looks around, but everyone is careful not to look at her. She turns around, and pauses.

The girl is small, but Ginny is in no place to call anyone small, she supposes. She has straggly, waist-length, dirty blonde hair. Her eyebrows are pale, and set into her face are big, round grey eyes that make her look permanently surprised. She’s a Ravenclaw. She has radish earrings hanging from her ear.

“Hi. I’m Luna Lovegood. Some call me ‘Loony’. Would you like to be my partner?”

Ginny opens her mouth and then closes it, because she thinks—her eyes burn with tears, and it feels ridiculous. She feels ridiculous. But, no one has offered to partner with her since she got here.

“I’m Ginny Weasley,” she says, offering her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Luna Lovegood.”

Luna takes her hand and smiles, slow and crooked. “Likewise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'd love to thank exarite, my lovely beta.
> 
> Now, look alive people. We're gonna get an example of two clips a day. Drop coming soon!


	3. TUESDAY, 6:49PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like a heartbeat drives you mad  
In the stillness of remembering what you had  
And what you lost and what you had, oh, what you lost"
> 
> Dreams, Fleetwood Mac

When Dean kisses her, Ginny feels like she’s floating. She has to stand on her toes to properly reach his lips, strain her neck. He has to practically stoop to meet her halfway. The strain in her muscles makes it all worth it. She loses herself in this, in the slide of his lips against hers, the spit that gathers at the corners of her mouth, where it’s just a little too wet. Dean presses her into the wall and she lets the stone ground her.

She stops floating.

Ginny pulls back with a wet smack of her lips, and she looks up at him, smiling. He smiles back at her, his teeth blindingly white in the dimmed corner of the castle. She glances out of the closest window. Sunset has passed but the sky is still a bruised purple, almost violent. Ginny shivers as the sky darkens before her. Dean huffs a laugh against her neck; he thinks the shiver is for him.

Ginny lets him think that.

“How were your first days back?” she asks as he leans in, presses a kiss to her neck, licking one particular freckle that she knows he likes a lot.

“Lots of free periods. Missed you during them,” Dean murmurs, lips dragging to the other side of her neck. His hands tighten on her waist, pulls her towards him until they’re pressed together and she can feel his cock twitch against her hip. He smiles down at her, worried almost.

They’d had sex before they even got together. Ginny can remember that she could see the lights of the Burrow from the brush, and the stars. It hurt, just a little, and Dean tried to make sure it wouldn't. She wasn’t sure if it was good. She didn’t have anything to measure it up against. She thinks it might’ve been good. Romilda said that sex with Dean was good, but how would she know either?

A laugh burbles out of her lips. Dean took both her and Romilda’s virginities.  _ Hilarious _ .

“What?” Dean asks, the space between his brows furrowing in worry. Ginny can’t help another hiccuped giggle. “What are you laughing at?”

He tries to smile through the worry.

“Nothing, nothing. Sorry,” Ginny insists and she hooks an arm around his neck, dragging him down to her level. “I was just thinking about something weird. Kiss me.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate, dives in to kiss her. She kisses back and it feels less warm, less real than it had only moments ago. She keeps her eyes open and takes in the long fringe of his eyelashes, the way his hair curls tight and lovely. He has strong, bold eyebrows. Ginny’s eyebrows are strangely pale against paler skin. It makes her look like she’s on fire.

Dean moves to pull back. She shuts her eyes tight, lips parted when he pulls away. She can feel his regressive pride.

“But, how was your day?” she asks again.

Dean looks confused about her question, fundamentally so. Ginny wonders if she’s dating a fool.

“Uh, okay,” he says. “It was fine. We have a teaching assistant in Defence now. It’s—”

Ginny frowns. “Did you have a good day?” she asks, slowly enunciating each word.

Dean leans back, his hands slipping from her body. They grasp at air. “Yeah…” he trails off. And then, stronger, he says, “Yeah, I had a really good day.”

“That’s good,” Ginny says with a smile.

“And how was your day?”

Ginny’s smile twitches.

_ Slag. _

“It was...okay,” Ginny decides with a shrug. She grabs Dean’s hand in hers, pulling him out of the alcove and walking backwards with a smile. “Let’s go back to the common room.”

Dean gives her a confused smile, like she’s a creature beyond his understanding. She turns away, leading him down the corridors. Dean tugs her back and spins her, startling another laugh out of her. He hugs her tight, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. Ginny burrows in, leeching his warmth. When she pulls back, she tilts back her head, a kiss expected. Instead, Dean presses a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m sorry that your day wasn’t great,” Dean whispers.

Ginny looks away. Her ears are red. “I said it was—”

“I have ears too, Gin.” Dean loops his arm around her shoulders as they walk down the corridor to the portrait hole. The Fat Lady looks down at them with a small smile.

“Password?” she asks.

“ _ Quid agis _ ?” Ginny says.

The Fat Lady swings open and Ginny moves to walk through the portrait hole, disentangling herself from Dean. She feels his hand on her lower back, helping her over the threshold, and this is something that’s always—

“Don’t...do that,” Ginny says, firmly. She looks at Dean, dangerously, and relaxes when she sees the alarm on his face. “I’m not  _ fragile _ . Don’t help me through the portrait hole.”

Dean frowns back at her. “I’m not saying you’re fragile. You’re upset and I just—”

“I know. Thank you for being there. Just don’t do that.” Ginny continues into the common room because she expects that to be the last of it. She looks around the common room and sees Seamus with Neville in the corner by one of the windows.

Romilda and her gaggle of girls are sitting by the fire. It looks like Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown have joined them. They all turn to stare at Ginny and Dean as they enter. Parvati looks just as disgusted as Romilda and her girls.

Lavender frowns. She looks a little sad.

Ginny turns away, tossing her hair over her shoulder and moving towards Seamus and Neville. Seamus looks up like he can sense Dean’s presence. He grins, waving them over. There’s only one seat. Dean sits down and Ginny casts one more look over at Romilda before she smiles, slow and wicked, before sliding into Dean’s lap.

Romilda spits and slowly turns back to the fire.

Ginny throws her legs over Dean’s thighs and leans back against the arm of the chair, looking over at Neville and Seamus. Neville is a little pink, but he smiles at her like he doesn’t think any differently of her. Neville was always the kindest of them.

“What’s going on over here?” Ginny prompts.

“Just talking about extracurriculars. Neville wants to start a Herbology Club, but I’m telling him, who wants to join a club about plants?” Seamus asks.

“I think there’d be  _ some  _ interest,” Neville insists weakly.

Ginny nods in agreement. “I agree. There’s an Ancient Runes club. Someone will join, Neville. I bet loads will. And if they don’t,  _ I’ll  _ join,” she declares.

Neville smiles at her, grateful. “Thanks.”

“So, that’s what you’re going to have when you apply to jobs? Herbology Club?” Seamus teases. He doesn’t seem to mean it, meanly. But, maybe he does. “At least it makes sense for Neville. He wants to be a Herbologist.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ginny says. “But, I’ll do  _ something _ .”

She doesn’t talk about her brother’s Cleansweep Five in her trunk. She doesn’t talk about the fact that she knows tryouts are on Friday afternoon, right after her last class. She doesn’t talk about the fact that she knows what she wants to do, but doesn’t know who she wants to be. So, instead, Ginny relaxes into Dean’s warmth and smiles at Seamus, just a little too sharp.

Ginny says, “I’ll find something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, look at that. A double clip, as promised.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts of this development in the comments!


	4. THURSDAY, 5:23PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny keeps a friend, and meets a thestral.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want  
So tell me what you want, what you really, really want  
I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want  
So tell me what you want, what you really, really want
> 
> Wannabe, Spice Girls

“_ Mutatio Skullus! _”

The bark warps, something like a face peeking through, but nothing happens, exactly. It just makes her angrier. Ginny spins, spitting out another hex, and then another, watching purple and blue jets of magic fly from the end of her wand in quick succession. She tastes spitting rage on the back of her tongue, fury at the fucking _ day _she’s having.

Transfiguration was okay. Potions with Snape was a nightmare. And Dean and Seamus have ditched her, off doing ‘guy stuff’, whatever that meant.

And _ Romilda _—

“_ Volatilis Lutum _.”

The Bat Bogey Hex zips through the air, stinging the nearest tree trunk.

“You’re scaring the thestrals.”

Ginny spins, wand held up, the end burning white. She stops when Luna Lovegood’s eyes cross, focusing on the very tip of the yew wand. Luna tilts her head, eyes never shifting. She’s not wearing her turnip earrings today, but she _ is _wearing a necklace of Butterbeer corks. It’s a rather lovely necklace. Ginny lowers her wand.

“Sorry,” Ginny mumbles. She frowns as Luna’s words rush through her head again. “Thestrals? What are thestrals?”

Luna steps back and turns on her heels. She’s wearing a layered tulle skirt over lavender leggings. Her feet are bare. She walks through the pine needles and dirt, pale toes sinking into the ground. Ginny frowns at her.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asks.

Luna frowns and looks down. “A bit,” she admits. “I suspect it’s the nargles.”

“Nargles?” Ginny asks.

“It’s why I wear this necklace,” Luna says, lifting her necklace. She smiles and turns away, reaching out for something. Ginny expects her hand to fall through air, but then, Luna’s hand seems to curve around something, stroking something.

Her head butts back gently and she giggles.

“What…” Ginny trails off, staring at the empty space in front of her.

“Thestrals. They’re quite gentle, really, but people avoid them, because they’re a bit...different,” Luna says. She reaches up, cupping something that Ginny can’t see, something that Ginny isn’t even sure she _ wants _to see.

“Why can’t I see them?” she asks.

“Because. They can only be seen by people that have seen death,” she says, softly, looking over at Ginny with wide pale eyes.

Ginny flushes. “I-I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s fine,” Luna breathes, looking up at the thestral. She tilts her head. “They’re lovely creatures.”

“They seem to be,” Ginny says. “Do you visit out here often?”

“Sometimes. I very much like creatures and they very much like me. Sometimes, they’re the only ones that like me,” Luna says, but she doesn’t sound sad about it, not like how Ginny would. No, Luna pulls whatever a thestral is closer to her and presses a kiss to the side of its face and nuzzles it gently.

“Well, I like you,” Ginny says without meaning to.

Luna looks at her from the corner of her eye and smiles. “Do you read the Quibbler?” she asks.

Ginny doesn’t read the Quibbler, but she’s heard of it. It’s a paper, full of false, strange stories and utterly weird advertisements.

“No. But, maybe I should get a subscription,” Ginny says with a shrug.

Luna beams. “My father’s the editor,” she says. Then, she stares harder at Ginny. “You’re very sad.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Ginny sputters.

Luna pulls away from the thestral. She still hasn't stopped smiling.

“You don’t need to tell me why. I know plenty of sad people that I’d like to be friends with. I _ am _friends with plenty of sad people,” Luna declares. She reaches out her hand and smiles wider.

“So, we’re friends, now?” Ginny asks.

Luna laughs. “Of course.”


	5. FRIDAY, 4:00PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which there are Quidditch try-outs
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Once I get you up there  
Where the air is rarefied  
Oh, we'll just glide  
So starry-eyed  
Once I get you up there  
I'll be holding you so near  
That you may hear  
Angels cheer, 'cause we're together
> 
> Come Fly With Me, Ruelle

Ginny marches onto the green Quidditch pitch, holding her chin up, even as her knees quiver and her grip tightens around Fred’s old Cleansweep Five. She’s wearing crimson robes. She hopes by the end of these tryouts, her robes will have her last name emblazoned in gold.

Dean grabs her shoulder before she goes to join the others.

“Good luck,” he says.

Ginny feels weak in the face of his earnestness. “Thank you,” she whispers back.

She leans up to kiss him, but before she can a voice echoes, “Yeah, Ginevra, good luck.”

Ginny jerks back like she’s been burnt. She turns to the girl standing there, and Romilda smiles at her, beautiful in her fury.

“Millie—” Dean starts.

“I’ll be watching,” Romilda says, turning on her heel and flouncing off.

Even Seamus winces after her, and he turns back to Ginny, offering a small smile. Ginny doesn’t smile anymore. She looks between the two older boys, grim-faced. Dean grabs her free hand in both of his and squeezes.

“We’ll be watching too, I swear,” Dean says.

Ginny snorts. “Okay. Just...go on,” she says. She hopes that he’ll stay, hug her one last time, but he doesn’t, and she shouldn’t expect him to either. Dean goes off with Seamus who waves awkwardly at her and Ginny is alone.

Except, she’s not. She’s going to  _ fly _ .

A sense of giddiness fills her and she grins as she walks onto the pitch, into the open green.

There is a sense of belonging that she rarely feels. She feels like she’s come home.

Ginny looks up.

A soft breath escapes her lips as she watches him spiral through the air, wind whipping his cheeks pink. She hears the whoop as he dives down, an actual sound echoing across the pitch as he goes  _ faster _ . He’s hurtling, fast- _ fast-faster _ , towards the green ground, and there’s a cry from the stands, where Dean and Seamus jump up just as Harry Potter pulls out of the Wronski Feint.

He cruises along the ground and then lands in front of his new recruits.

Ginny starts the applause, probably too eager and too dazzled, but Harry Potter grins at her.

Harry Potter is still beautiful. That’s the first thing she notices.

He’s not very tall, but not short either, with sparkling green eyes set in a narrow face. His hair is wilder than usual, windswept. He still has the same glasses from when he was eleven, just a little crooked on his nose. His red lips are pulled into a wide smile. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

Ginny used to fancy herself in love with him. She still thinks she might be, just a little.

“Welcome to the Gryffindor Quidditch team tryouts,” Harry says, hands on his hips.

No one pays attention. Not exactly. They’re still all fucking around, shoving at one another and laughing and clamoring to ask Harry,  _ how did you do that? _ Ginny spots one girl, Demelza, she thinks, paying attention. Katie Bell, a veteran on the team, looks amused. Even Ron isn’t paying attention, instead lost in his own mind, casting nervous looks over at  _ Cormac McLaggen _ . Ginny watches Harry and Katie exchange looks, and Ginny clears her throat, stepping forward.

“ _ SHUT IT!”  _ she barks, her voice booming over the pitch.

Everyone falls silent, staring at her. Harry looks over at her again.

“Thanks,” he says with a wink.

Ginny thinks she might just die.

It’s characteristically unlike him, from all of what Ginny has observed of Harry Potter. But, there had been a change—in his third year—when his godfathers finally got custody of him. Equally, he became more mysterious and more  _ interesting _ . Or performative. Ginny can easily tell where he’s gotten that from—Sirius Black is said to be  _ quite  _ the character, and she can agree, just from reading his interviews from that one year.

“Alright, now then, just because you made the team last year, doesn’t guarantee you a spot this year. Is that clear?” Harry calls, looking out at everyone.

Everyone stares at him, like the very idea is alien. Even Katie Bell looks worried, casting a look at the new faces. If anything, Ron looks greener. He was Keeper last year and now, Cormac McLaggen isn’t sick from eating too many fucking doxie eggs.

“We let slags try out here, then?” McLaggen asks. The silence feels palpable. McLaggen turns to Ron and claps him on the shoulder. “No hard feelings, Weasley.”

“Let me guess, you’re friends with  _ Romilda _ ,” Ginny sneers before Ron can even figure out what to say. McLaggen turns to her and lifts an eyebrow.

“Yes. Very close.”

“I’m  _ sure _ ,” Ginny jeers, lifting her chin.

In Hogwarts, maybe, she’s quiet. Maybe the whispers get to her. But, on the Quidditch pitch, she has always been queen.

“You can go.”

Everyone turns to look at Harry. He’s staring at McLaggen with something furious, his eyes burning bright green. It’s almost terrifying. Even McLaggen, in all his snide, arrogant glory, falters when Harry watches him with that glare.

“What?” McLaggen asks.

“We don’t accept that kind of talk on my team. You understand me? Apologize. Or you can get off my pitch,” Harry barks. McLaggen doesn’t move. “Do I need to  _ repeat  _ myself?”

McLaggen jumps. “No, I—”

“Go.”

“The rules say that I can try out. You  _ have  _ to let me try out. You’re not a teacher,” McLaggen insists.

Harry whips his wand out from his crimson robes, stalking forward, his Firebolt dragging after him. He pauses, looks up, and sees Hermione standing, forever the watchwoman. Harry turns back to McLaggen.

“You’re lucky Ron and I don’t hex you to oblivion—”

“You’re lucky  _ I  _ don’t hex you,” Ginny adds with a hiss, and she falters when she sees Harry stop in the middle of his threat to cast her an amused look.

“You apologize. I’ll know you won’t mean it. But, you can try out. And you won’t get on my team. And you  _ will  _ leave my pitch. That’s how this is going to go,” Harry says. He steps back, stowing his wand again and he looks at McLaggen, expecting.

“Sorry,” the boy mutters.

Ginny’s eyes narrow at him. She doesn’t accept his apology.

“Ron!” Harry barked. Ron jumps, but he’s still staring at McLaggen, so pale his freckles jump out. That’s how Ginny knows he’s furious—Ron always pales when he’s  _ angry _ . “McLaggen! In the sky.”

Ginny watches as Harry’s words come true, like a prophecy laid out in life. McLaggen and Ron take off into the sky, both smoothly, but that’s where the smoothness of their tryouts end. Ron darts through the sky, zooming between the three goalposts he defends as Katie Bell and Harry rise into the sky, tossing the Quaffle back and forth between them.

Ginny sees that Harry isn’t the best Chaser, not by a long shot, but he can sit on a broom with no hands, which is half the battle, she supposes. The pair toss the Quaffle, and Ron saves it again and again, even with a nice spin, smacking the red ball away with the bristles of his broomstick. He’s a solid Keeper and Ginny wonders why she never really noticed before, not even with all the games that he played last year.

McLaggen, on the other hand, is erratic. He moves in the wrong direction sometimes, jerking back and forth. It’s enough to startle a laugh out of her and a few other students. Harry spins on his broom at one point to look at the stands. Ginny follows his line of sight and catches on Hermione again.

Hermione’s wand is poking out from her robes, and she’s stone-faced, but even from the bottom of the pitch, Ginny can almost see a twist of triumph to her lips.

Ron dominates easily, and Ginny forces the emotion back in, centering herself for her own tryouts. She steps forward as those in the air come down, and she can’t help her fascination again as Harry speeds down and lands. Ron, Katie, and McLaggen are just behind him. McLaggen doesn’t wait, stumbling off, worried and overwhelmed. He shoots a horrible glare at Harry, but Harry isn’t looking at him.

“Now, who’s here to try out for the three Chaser positions?” Harry asks. He’s looking at her, and he leans over to whisper something in Ron’s ear.

Ron looks confident again, chest puffed out, and he laughs softly. Ginny thinks they might be laughing at her. Her eyes narrow and she stands taller. She steps forward along with Demelza Robins, Katie, and a few other Gryffindors.

“Let’s see what you can do. Ron, ready?” Harry asks.

He mounts his broom smoothly and takes off. They follow after him. Ginny sinks onto her broomstick and soars upward. The Cleansweep Five is an old model, but reliable, and she’s ridden her brothers’ brooms enough to know all of their quirks. She has to squeeze her thighs a little harder, pull the handle just a little to the left, but she outpaces Robins quick enough.

Harry balances the red Quaffle in one hand, holding it out towards them. They assemble in a semi-circle around him, all six of them.

“Okay. We’re going to split into two teams of three. Katie, Kirke, and Robins. Sloper, Alas, and Weasley,” Harry commands, looking between the two teams. The longer Ginny looks at him, the more interesting he becomes. He’s only an okay captain, so far. But, he seems effortless in the air, like it makes him more confident.

She understands something like that.

Ginny turns to Sloper and Alas. Sloper has a build made for Beating, but he flies slowly to her side. He doesn’t give her the up and down that she’s now used to, so she doesn’t feel the urge to knock him off his broom. Alas does, however, and it’s more appreciative, catching sight of how her Quidditch breeches are tight over her calves. She sneers.

Harry tosses the Quaffle in the air, and Ginny streaks forward, catching it before Robins can even move. Katie sees her, zooms around in an attempt to snatch it from her hands, but Ginny keeps low on her own broom, pressing herself flat against it as she flies towards the goalposts. Ron’s eyes are narrowed.

She’s at a disadvantage here. He knows her moves—most of them.

Ginny spins and glances over at Sloper. He’s watching her. She chucks it at him, but even as he reaches up for the Quaffle, Katie snatches it from the air and aims at Ron, throwing it so hard that if he didn’t duck, it’d decapitate him.

It falls through the silver middle ring but Robins goes for it, catching it before it drops too far, and then, flying up again, zooms in front of Ron to toss it at the left ring. This one he catches, and only because Robins doesn’t seem confident enough in her own abilities to chuck it at his head.

Ron throws it over his head, and it becomes a dance.

The potential Chasers weave in and out of one another, a complicated dance of catching the flying red ball, intercepting and receiving, tossing this way and that. They score on Ron more often than not, and that’s only because there are six of them and one of him, and he doesn’t even have the support of a Beater.

Ginny isn’t sure of how long they’ve been flying or how long she’s been grinning like a bloody loon before Harry calls out to them, pulling them into a circle.

“That was great,” he says, nodding to himself, looking each of them in the eye. “I definitely think I can make a decision from what I’ve seen.”

“And what do you think? Who’s made it?” Alas blurts out.

Harry looks at him, contemplative, almost like he’s going to answer until he shrugs, and gives a small smile. “Don’t know yet. But, I will soon. By tomorrow. Good game,” he decides. “Now, onto the Beaters.”

Ginny knows a dismissal when she hears it. She turns to see Dean and Seamus in the stands, already preening, but as she looks at each tower, she doesn’t see them anywhere. But, she’s still in the sky. It’s impossible for her to feel smaller when she’s queen of the sky, flying away.

She feels a hand clap on her shoulder, and she turns to look at Ron.

“Good job, Gin,” Ron says, earnestly.

“You think so? You always used to say that girls didn’t belong on your Quidditch team,” Ginny teases.

Ron snorts. “I was a kid and I was talking about family games,” he retorts. And then, his smile softens just that bit more. “You were really good.”

Ginny doesn’t say anything else. She zooms to the ground because her ears burn and her brother’s too earnest for her. When she feels her feet on the ground, she curls into herself because the world seems real again. She dismounts her broom and looks for the five other potential Chasers, but they’ve all vacated, probably to shower.

Ginny trudges after them and she pauses at the entrance to the Quidditch pitch.

“Luna?” she asks, staring at the straggly-haired blonde girl.

She’s wearing shoes now, white canvas sneakers that she’s drawn tiny golden Snidgets on.

“That was really good,” Luna says cheerfully.

“You...came?” Ginny whispers. She’d told Luna that she was thinking of trying out, in passing, but—

“Yes. That’s what friends are for, yes?” she says. “You know, I’ll be doing commentary this year! I’m quite excited!”

Ginny laughs and walks forward, tossing an arm around Luna. “That’ll be something, won’t it?” she says as they walk together. Luna seems to beam brighter.

As they walk, the Patil twins walk by, casting her more furtive looks than the other night. Lavender trails behind them, a thoughtful look on her face. She pauses to look at Ginny.

“Congratulations, Ginny. That was cool,” Lavender says, wiggling her fingers at her.

She seems...genuine. It’s different from Romilda. Ginny opens her mouth and then closes it because she doesn’t know what to say. Lavender doesn’t seem to mind.

“What should we do now?” Luna asks.

Ginny snorts. “I don’t know about you, but I’m  _ starved _ . We should get dinner. You can sit at the Gryffindor table.”

“Is that allowed?” Luna asks curiously.

Ginny snorts and shrugs. “Wanna find out?”


	6. MONDAY, 4:24 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which boyfriends are insecure
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Why men great 'til they gotta be great?  
I just took a DNA test, turns out I'm 100% that bitch  
Even when I'm crying crazy  
Yeah, I got boy problems, that's the human in me  
Bling bling, then I solve 'em, that's the goddess in me
> 
> Truth Hurts, Lizzo

Ginny squints harder down at her half-formed Charms essay that feels more like a terrible combination of History of Magic and Muggle Studies. Fifth year is as hard as Percy had annoyingly warned her, and she knows little about Muggles, let alone why boundary spells are so important when considering Muggles and the International Statute of Secrecy.

Ginny sighs, leaning back in her chair. She looks around the towering bookshelves, so tall they seem to disappear into the shadows of the ceilings. There are books,  _ somewhere,  _ in the library that will suit her needs, but does she really want to go look for them?

“Hey, you.” Dean swoops down around her, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Perfect timing,” she mumbles against his lips. They’re smiling against one another, now, not even kissing, and Ginny feels so  _ good _ .

“Do I get a kiss too?” another mocking voice asks.

Ginny pulls away from Dean and not even Seamus’ unasked for appearance could dampen her current mood at being distracted from her fucking  _ essay _ .

“How about you fuck off?” Ginny asks with a good-natured smile.

Seamus grins back at her. “There’s that fire.”

He says it like it’s been missing. She supposes it has. She’s felt good since that moment when she was in the sky, weaving in and out of formations on the Quidditch pitch. Not even Romilda’s hissed insults had gotten to her, and that had clearly frustrated the other woman all day, enough for her to fall silent and simply glare.

“How are you?” Ginny asks to be polite.

“Defence was  _ insane  _ today. Professor Lupin is going to teach us how to  _ duel _ . Apparently, that’s a major part of the NEWTs. It’s no wonder Riddle is the teaching assistant,” Seamus says.

Ginny raises an eyebrow. Riddle, then. No surprise there.

“He’s good. For a Slytherin,” Dean admits, grudgingly. “He’s mostly just sat in the corner so far. I don’t think we start duelling for a while. Lupin said it was just  _ part  _ of the curriculum.”

Seamus shrugs. “It’s still there.”

“Knowing you, you’ll try to get away with blowing everybody up,” Ginny says, unable to help her smirk. Seamus glares, not taking too kindly to the joke.

“I don’t just blow things up,” he snaps.

“No, just yourself,” Dean cracks, and he grins. He leans over the desk. “You practically blew me up along with our potion today.”

“Look, Greengrass’—” Seamus pauses and cups his chest, miming huge breasts, “were practically begging for a look. You saw what she looked like?”

Dean leans forward even more, eyes bright. “Y—”

Ginny elbows him in the side, hard enough to make him grunt.

Seamus groans, falling back into his seat. “Come on, Gin. Don’t be such a—”

“A  _ what _ ?” Ginny demands.

“A  _ girl _ ,” Seamus insists.

Ginny huffs. “I  _ am  _ a girl.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Seamus retorts.

Ginny swings around to stare at Dean, expecting something, anything, but he relaxes and shakes his head.

“I have it on good authority that she  _ is _ , in fact, a girl,” Dean says, practically winking and nudging.

“You guys are fucking—” Ginny starts.

It’s like she has an inner eye, or something, like Trelawney went on about when Ginny still had to take Divination. She swallows her own words, and turns.

Hermione marches in first. Her curls are in an enormous bun on top of her head and she wears her prefect badge proudly. It’s gleaming, in comparison to Ron’s, which is smudged with fingerprints. Rounding out the group—Harry Potter.

“Ginny Weasley,” Harry declares.

Ginny’s eyes widen. “Uh, yes?”

Harry smiles at her and tilts his head to the side as he watches her.

“Here.” Harry drops a scroll of parchment right in the middle of her copy of  _ The Standard Book of Spells, Year Five _ . Ginny reaches for it and unfurls it. She looks down at the timetable and list of dates in chicken scratch at the bottom, and then back up at Harry.

“Is this...is this a joke?” Ginny asks. She turns her stare up at Hary.

He’s grinning now. “No,” he says. “It’s you, Katie Bell, and Demelza Robins. Welcome to the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

Ginny turns to stare at Dean and Seamus. Dean has a strange expression on his face, gaze trained on Harry, but his stare snaps to Ginny and he smiles at her. Ginny throws her arms around him in celebration, squeezing him tight.

“Merlin.  _ Shit _ ,” Ginny breathes into his neck.

“Congrats, Gin,” Ron says, reaching to ruffle her red locks.

Ginny snatches his wrist out of the hair with the swiftness of a Keeper. She slowly turns a warning stare onto him.

“Touch my hair and you die,” she says sweetly.

Ron snorts and jerks his hand out of her grip, shrugging with a roll of his eyes. But, he’s smiling at her, and Ginny can’t stop smiling back at him, too lost in her own giddiness. She turns towards Hermione and Harry and makes a soft sound that’s supposed to be a question, begging for another affirmation, but she chokes on it.

“Congratulations,” Hermione says. She shakes her head. “Really, is Quidditch  _ this  _ big a deal?”

“Of course,” Harry and Ron chime in unison.

Hermione rolls her eyes and elbows Harry in the belly, lightly. “Oh, I know how crazy  _ you  _ are about Quidditch, habibi.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he preens at the word that Hermione calls him. Ginny’s heard Hermione use it a lot for Harry, and Harry alone, particularly when she’s treating him like he’s her kid brother. Harry turns back to Ginny with a wide, indulgent smile.

“She pretends that she doesn’t care, but actually Hermione figured the schedule out for me. Saturday mornings. Eight a.m,” Harry confirms, and he tilts his head as he looks down at her.

Ron groans, shaking his head. “You’re mad, Harry. Truly.”

“Be grateful that I’m not Wood. He made us get up at dawn,” Harry warns with a quirk of his eyebrow. Ginny can’t help her lurch of excitement at the very concept of getting up at dawn for Quidditch. She’d read in Seeker Weekly that Gwenog Jones had her team up at dawn three times a week and they practiced for  _ hours _ .

“Thank you. Thank you  _ so  _ much,” Ginny finally breathes.

“Why are you thanking me?” Harry asks with a shrug. “You were better than everyone else that tried out. You’ll be a force, Ginny Weasley.”

He doesn’t say it like it’s meant to flatter, only like it’s complete fact. She can’t help the way her cheeks heat up, the way her ears go hot. Harry doesn’t even seem to notice, only turning to look over at Ron and Hermione.

“Let’s go find Demelza, yeah?” Harry asks. He pulls a ragged, folded parchment out of his robes and taps his wand against it, mumbling to himself as he wanders away without even saying goodbye, almost like he’s forgotten to.

Ron waves at Ginny, Dean, and Seamus. Hermione is watching Ginny a little more carefully.

“I’ll be seeing you around, Ginny,” Hermione says, not unkindly, but with a voice that says that she’s watching. For what, Ginny doesn’t know just yet.

Ginny sits in silence for a moment, simply reveling in her victory. She flushes, biting her lip and squeals. She’s hushed violently almost immediately, and the three hear the clicking of Madame Pince’s heels. Before she can turn around the nearest bookshelf, they all direct their attention to their books, as if they’ve been working the entire time.

Ginny doesn’t dare to look up. Madame Pince can practically smell weakness.

They hold their breaths until she passes, and then, Ginny falls back in her chair, giggling weakly. She looks over at Seamus, and he’s grinning with her, amused as well. When she turns to Dean, he looks less amused and more thoughtful, almost frustrated, staring at three sixth years long gone.

“I’m on the Quidditch team,” Ginny breathes in elation.

“Yeah, congrats,” Dean murmurs,  _ finally _ .

Ginny frowns. “Are you...is there a problem?” she asks.

“No. I just…” Dean trails off, shaking his head, and he turns to Seamus, a question on the tip of his tongue. “Was Harry...never mind.”

“Was Harry  _ what _ ?” Ginny demands, her voice edged with something that she hasn’t used with Dean yet. He looks surprised to hear it, especially directed at him.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Clearly, it is, if you can’t be happy for me right now,” Ginny retorts.

Seamus looks back and forth between them like they’re a particularly rousing Wizard’s chess match.

“I just thought he was flirting with you,” Dean snaps. “I didn’t like it.”

Ginny feels like her entire body shuts down and then fires up again in the span of a half-second. She knows that there is  _ no  _ logical way that Harry Potter was flirting with her. He’s just weird, and everywhere, and nowhere too. She doesn’t think there is a single person that can say they  _ know  _ Harry Potter, outside of Ron and Hermione, despite the fact that there was a time when he was in the Prophet practically  _ daily _ .

“He wasn’t. He’s gay,” she retorts.

Ginny, at least, knows that. Everyone knows that.

“I’m just saying what I saw. I don’t appreciate it. Him flirting with my girlfriend,” Dean mutters under his breath. He looks at Seamus to back him up.

“Mate, it wasn’t like that,” Seamus insists, clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“But, it was—”

“Oh, grow  _ up _ , Dean,” Ginny blurts out.

Both Dean’s and Seamus’ heads snap around to look at her. Ginny stares back at them.

An uncomfortable silence descends.


	7. TUESDAY, 5:07 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny is insecure
> 
> ~*~
> 
> You coulda had a bad bitch, non-committal  
Help you with your career just a little  
You're 'posed to hold me down, but you're holding me back  
And that's the sound of me not calling you back
> 
> Truth Hurts, Lizzo

Ginny is alone less often than she was last week. If she isn’t with Dean, she’s with Dean _ and _Seamus, and if not them, she’s with Luna. She finds that sometimes, she prefers Luna’s company, and if Luna isn’t around, Ginny has become more and more okay with being alone. She walks the corridors of Hogwarts, her bag bouncing against her thigh as she goes in search of her brother, maybe.

She doesn’t particularly have a destination in mind.

Ginny doesn’t feel she needs to.

After all, she’s on the Quidditch team. She’s a _ Chaser._

Ginny knows that scouts come to the matches. She knows that Horace Slughorn always comes to visit Professor Dumbledore, and Slughorn _ always _brings Gwenog Jones. Ginny would kill to be on the Holyhead Harpies. She can just imagine it, being on Puddlemere United’s rival team, when she finally beats Joscelind Wadcock’s record of most goals.

She’d probably get her own Chocolate Frog card. Ron would lose his shit.

Ginny grins like a loon as she walks down the hallway and changes direction, heading towards dinner. She hoists her bag higher on her shoulder and goes left instead of right, veering towards the Great Hall. Maybe they’ll have roast chicken tonight. She’s—

Her breath catches in her chest.

“Millie…” Dean sighs, long and bone-tired as he looks down at Romilda. Dean is still in his robes, which means that he’s just come from classes, or maybe going to classes. Ginny thinks about whether he has Astronomy late tonight. Suddenly, she can’t remember his schedule.

Romilda isn’t in robes. No, instead she’s dressed in those same high-waisted denim jeans that Ginny had always been so _ jealous _of. Romilda could wear them because she was curvy, but they slipped on Ginny’s boyish hips every time she’d tried to borrow them. Romilda’s thick eyelashes look dark even at a distance, and Ginny remembers a time when they—Dean and Romilda—had almost been in love.

Romilda isn’t smiling. She leans against the stone, arms folded over her chest, and she’s glaring, but her mouth is down-twisted, like she’s more sad than furious. Dean reaches out and grabs her shoulder, squeezes, and whispers something.

Romilda snaps something back, and the words fade in and out for Ginny: “…shouldn’t be this hard…we…make it work.”

The words made Ginny’s skin hot. She makes a move to step out, but it’d just be inviting cruel insults from Romilda. She can already hear them spinning now: _ Are you a stalker now? Boyfriend stealer and a stalker? Don’t trust your boyfriend? Good, I shouldn’t’ve trusted him either. _

Ginny pulls back, pressing herself into the shadows and reaches for her bag. She pulls the flap back and searches for the long fleshy string that Fred and George had gifted her. The Extendable Ears hadn’t been put into action just yet, but just the sight of Romilda and Dean together makes something furious flare up, deep and guttural, and when she nearly upends her bag in her search, she instead whips out her wand, eyes narrowing.

“Ginny?”

Ginny turns, stares at Hermione Granger. She can count on her hands the number of times she has had a real conversation with Hermione Granger. That isn’t to say that she doesn’t know Hermione Granger; she knows her well, from the very first letters from Ron when he’d first abandoned Ginny for Hogwarts. Her mum used to read all of the letters aloud to Ginny in the sitting room and then she’d answer them in the order she’d received them, whether it was about new socks for Fred and George because they’d burned them in their experiments or a patient reassurance for Percy who would always get himself worked up over something.

Hermione Granger had featured in Ron’s letters almost as early as Harry had.

_ Frizzy-haired, know-it-all _ , he’d called her. _ Annoying busybody. No wonder she doesn’t got any friends. _

Ron never said what changed. But, halfway through his first year, Ron’s insults had all but disappeared, having been replaced with missives of how he was _ thankful that Hermione was there, because he would’ve failed, but he could never tell her _. Ginny had lived on tales of Harry and Hermione, had imagined what it would be like to find friends and explore the castle and get in all types of misadventures.

Ginny had thought that she had found that in Romilda, and though they didn’t go on many misadventures, they had been close.

Hermione Granger stares at her with real concern, like they know one another outside of Ron, like they’re friends.

“Are you alright?” she asks with a frown. Her hair really is big, but it’s not frizzy by any means. It’s tamed back in a very large, long curly puff at the moment, but the edges of her hair are flat and swirled against dark skin.

Ginny whispers, “I’m fine,” but Hermione’s gaze follows her line of sight.

Hermione’s frown deepens. “Oh. I’m sure…”

“It’s nothing. Probably...he just wants his stuff back. She was wearing his shirt on the train,” Ginny insists, not looking at Hermione. She can’t look away from Dean and _ Millie. _“He really likes that shirt.”

Ginny has no fucking idea if he likes that shirt.

“It’s nothing. Really, truly,” Hermione says. She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself, more than anything. She slides clumsily between Ginny and the scene of Dean and Romilda. She offers her arm, like she’s expecting Ginny to just link up with her. “Would you like to get dinner?”

Ginny turns her sharp eyes to Hermione, attempts to dissect her, but Hermione’s staring back with the same intensity. It makes Ginny falter. Hermione does have dark eyes that know it all, like she’s seen a lot and understands the emotions that Ginny can’t help but show in the wrinkle of her nose, the twist of her mouth.

“No, I’m not very hungry. Thanks though,” she says and turns on her heel.

Ginny’s starving. But, she thinks anything she’d eat might taste like ash.


	8. WEDNESDAY, 11:17AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny meets her match
> 
> ~*~
> 
> A couple rebel top gun pilots  
Flying with nowhere to be  
Don't know you super well  
But I think that you might be the same as me  
Behave abnormally
> 
> Homemade Dynamite, Lorde

Ginny’s mum’s letter asks after Romilda.

This isn’t unusual. Ginny’s mum loves Romilda, thinks that she’s a little precocious, but that she’s going places. Ginny thinks Romilda will go places too.

She just wishes that it were to hell, because Romilda is currently making her life fucking  _ miserable _ .

But, Ginny can’t tell her mum that because then, Mum will be disappointed. She’ll pretend she isn’t, because Ginny has always been her favorite, but she’ll look at Ginny differently, and Ginny couldn’t bear it—not when everyone else is looking at her differently too.

Ginny pulls her knees up and begins to pen a response.

_ Dear Mum, _

_ _

_ School is going well. It’s been about a week, and I already feel the pressure of OWLs coming up. History of Magic is boring as always. I don’t know why they just won’t fire Binns. If I have to sit another half-a-term listening to Binns go on and on about the Giant Wars, I just might scream. And there are so many essays due, Mum, but I think it’s because they want us prepared for the written portion of the OWLs. There’s just so much to do, all of the time. But, I’m not worried. I’ve always done alright. _

_ _

_ Anyway, Romilda is still Romilda. I think you know what that means. _

_ _

_ But enough about her. I have something to tell you. I’ll have you know that I am one of two new Chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I tried out last Friday, and it went really well. I could pick out who would be on the team pretty well. I was pretty confident about my place on the team (I outflew almost everyone except Harry Potter and Katie Bell), but it’s still nice to have the team practice schedule. So, now, you’ll have two children on the Quidditch team, once again. We’re like an infestation! _

_ _

_ I wanted to ask, though. Now, that I’m on the team, could I get a new broom, like Ron did? It doesn’t have to be anything expensive, but Fred’s Cleansweep Five isn’t the best, and I really want to play well for the team. It’s my first year. If you can’t, I understand. _

_ _

_ Love, _

_ Ginny _

** **

Ginny looks down at the letter and purses her lips. She wonders if her mother will notice that she doesn’t call Romilda ‘Millie’ anymore. Ginny flinches when she remembers the moniker passing from Dean’s lips as they huddled in an alcove, whispering secrets between the two of them. She shakes the doubts away and uncurls from the seat she’s made on the sill of a window. She folds her letter and turns to head towards the Owlery.

Ron will make a big deal about her asking for Pigwidgeon, and she doesn’t want to deal with it.

“Well, if it isn’t the Weaselette.” There’s a long pause where Ginny doesn’t turn around, her eyes narrow. “Or maybe you should have a new name? Well, we already know you’re a poor, dirty Weasley. A blood traitor, too—”

Ginny spins around and faces the childish bully.

Draco Malfoy and his cronies are a whole year older than her, but they still haven’t progressed past first year insults. Malfoy stops, swallowing back fear.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Ginny hisses.

Malfoy looks to his left at Crabbe and then, to his right, at Goyle. They both draw themselves up, both bullish and gorilla-like in equal fashion. It’s almost fascinating.

“What’s it like being the school slag? Have you gotten through Gryffindor yet?” Malfoy asks.

Ginny lets the insult wash over her. It doesn’t mean the same, coming from someone like Malfoy—a person who is repugnant and an overall shithead. Instead, it makes her smile. Malfoy looks at her, disturbed by her unexpected reaction.

“Why do you care so much? Jealous?” Ginny drawls. She puts her hand on her hips, leaning to the side, staring up at him and fluttering her eyelashes.

Malfoy only looks even more repulsed.

“Why would I be jealous of a slag that steals her best friend’s—” Malfoy starts, and Ginny snorts in disbelief, staring at him wide-eyed.

“I meant of all of the alleged Gryffindor boys,” Ginny corrected.

Goyle and Crabbe and too stupid to understand what’s just happened, but Ginny watches the blood spread across Malfoy’s pointy face. He swallows, humiliated and Ginny throws her head back and lets out a long laugh, unable to help herself.

“So, Malfoy—” she begins.

“I”m not jealous of them either. I don’t want anyone’s sloppy seconds. Or fifths.”

Ginny’s burbled laughter disappears with a sharp intake of breath. Malfoy’s red face burns with more triumph than embarrassment now. Ginny presses her lips together firmly, staring at him, waiting for one comes next. Malfoy makes a sound in victory and turns on his heel. Ginny refuses to let him have the last word.

“What’s it like to be a wannabe Death Eater?” Ginny calls after him. Malfoy turns to mumble something at Goyle, and Goyle grunted out a laugh. “I remember you practically tripped over yourself to get in with Riddle. But, he had a few choice words for you. ‘A pandering, disgusting,  _ spoiled _ —”

“Don’t be a bitch and shut your  _ mouth _ .”

Malfoy’s frozen, his back still to Ginny. Ginny feels her own heart stop.

“Repeat that,” Ginny whispers.

Malfoy turns around. He’s pale now. “I said shut your mouth,  _ bitch _ .”

“ _ Volatilis Lutum. _ ”

Her Bat-Bogey Hex has always been  _ particularly  _ impressive, and doubly so, when she’s angry.

Ginny is  _ furious _ .

Malfoy doesn’t even have the time to dodge, and Crabbe and Goyle are too stupid to react properly. Malfoy stumbles back, his hand flying to his nose, and he takes a wheezing gasp. He throws his head back and lets out another wheezing sound as the bogeys from his nose fly out. Ginny has it on good authority that the sensation is uncomfortable enough to border on painful, and Malfoy has always been of the whingy sort.

He’s already blubbering as Ginny stomps away.

She turns the corner and nearly collides with someone else with a green and silver tie—another fucking Slytherin.

Ginny glares.

“I saw that.” He’s handsome, even with that green and silver tie around his neck. He smiles at her, teeth blindingly white, sickening straight, set in a generous mouth. His skin is brown and unblemished and he has an accent that sounds vaguely Mediterranean.

“Good. Then, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep it moving along,” Ginny warns. She doesn’t put her wand away, not yet.

“I’ve always been told that I don’t know what’s good for me,” he says. He strides towards her instead of running away, hand outstretched. “Blaise Zabini.”

Ginny stares at his hand, hovering in the space between them, and then she turns suspicious eyes back up at him. She lets his hand hang there until it’s long past awkward, but Zabini doesn’t seem to feel it at all. He just drops his hand with ease.

“And you’re Ginny Weasley,” he says for her.

“Oh, yes, the Slut of Hogwarts,” Ginny snorts, rolling her eyes. “Now, get your insult over with so that I can hex you and go about my day.”

“I was going to say the impressive Chaser.”

Ginny’s fury tapers out, in exchange for curiosity. She looks up at Zabini and tries to place him. He’s clearly a Slytherin, but she hasn’t ever seen him in any of her classes. So, he’s either a sixth year or a seventh year. Ginny isn’t sure if she should ask. She doesn’t want to seem interested in him or learning anything about him, because she’s  _ not _ . She already knows what kind of guy Zabini fancies himself as.

“Is that so? How would you know?” she asks.

“I saw your tryout,” Zabini admits.

Ginny hums. “Those were closed. Are you cheating? Trying to figure our team strategies before the first game of the season?”

Zabini shakes his head and leans forward, his lips curling into a half-smile, full of impish viciousness. “Do you want to know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t give a damn about Quidditch,” he says.

Ginny rears back, appalled. “Then, how do you know I’m a good Chaser?”

“Just because I don’t care about Quidditch doesn’t mean that I don’t  _ know  _ about Quidditch,” Zabini clarifies like this is the simplest explanation in the world as opposed to him being, possibly  _ mad  _ for not liking Quidditch.

“Did you need something?” she asks.

Zabini shrugs. “Your Bat-Bogey Hex. It’s impressive.”

“Thanks, it’s a bit of my trademark,” Ginny warns. Zabini holds up his hands in surrender but laughs off her words.

“Why don’t you use it against all the others that say terrible things about you?”

“Well, I’m all about rising above.”

“That’s Gryffindor-talk,” Zabini says. He pauses. “Unless...you think what they’re saying about you is true.”

“How’d you come to that conclusion?” Ginny retorts.

Zabini shrugs. “I can read people pretty well.”

“Not me, though. I don’t use my Bat-Bogey Hex, because I’d be sending them to the Hospital Wing. Bet that’s where Malfoy is heading now,” Ginny says with a shrug. She crosses her arms over her puffed up chest, unable to help her triumph. She smirks up at Zabini.

“So, all that about stealing your best friend’s boyfriend?” Zabini asks.

“I’m dating Dean,” Ginny says as a way to end the conversation.

Zabini nods. “I don’t agree with them, you know. You can’t steal a whole human being. That’s kidnapping,” he says.

“That’s right. You’re a sixth year?” Ginny asks gruffly.

“Yes, I am. It’s  _ truly  _ a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Zabini says. He smiles widely at her, showing off all those pretty white teeth.

“I don’t know if I’d say the same just yet,” Ginny says stiffly. She puts her hands on her hips. “Are you friends with him? Malfoy?”

“Merlin, no,” Zabini laughs, shaking his head. “Draco Malfoy needs to grow into his trousers and stop throwing around slurs before I darken his doorways.”

The way he speaks is almost infuriating. Like he thinks he’s in one of Ginny’s mum’s soppy WWN shows or in one of those little tabloid books that she thinks she keeps hidden away, full of chest-heaving sex and flushed cheeks—Ginny’s read all of them by now.

Zabini winks at her, like they’re friends.

Something deep in her pelvis tightens. She ignores it.

“Do you’ve got something in your eye?” she asks, her voice high and innocent.

Zabini throws back his head and laughs, deep and loud.

“No, I don’t,” he says, patiently. He leans against the wall. Ginny hadn’t noticed that he was practically looming over her until he’d fallen back.

_ (She doesn’t admit to herself that she almost misses it.) _

They stare at another too long for it to be comfortable, but even the silence doesn’t feel particularly  _ uncomfortable _ . Just loaded, and that says something, that means something, but Ginny isn’t sure what. She shifts back and forth, simply staring up at Zabini, unintimidated.

“You’re something else, Ginny Weasley,” Zabini finally says. His smile has softened into something less bright, less designed to dazzle.

“How do you know I’m anything?” Ginny asks.

Zabini shrugs. “I’ve just got an eye for these things.”

Ginny scoffs and shakes her head. She looks up and down the corridor, hoping for someone to show up, to shatter the weird space between the two of them. Zabini seems content with letting silences linger. Ginny doesn’t like how she content she is about it either.

“Why did you come to tryouts, then?” Ginny demands.

“To see you.” His smile widens.

Ginny rears back, staring at him with wide eyes, lips parted. She stares up at Blaise Zabini, and tries to parse out flattery from honesty, and finds it hard to tell where the first ends and the second begins. Slytherins are known to be silver-tongued, with the exception of Malfoy.

“You know what I  _ won’t  _ be doing?” Ginny asks, slowly.

Zabini’s grin grows. “What?”

“Seeing  _ you _ . Later, stalker,” she says, saluting him. She turns on her heel and walks away.

If she struts away just a little harder, she pretends she doesn’t.

Ginny can hear him laugh even when she turns the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go with the plotttt!!!
> 
> Tell me what you think!!! I’ve been waiting to get to this chapter FOREVER!!!


	9. FRIDAY, 8:14 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Luna has more than one sad friend
> 
> ~*~
> 
> All that I want  
Is to wake up fine  
Tell me that I'm alright  
That I ain't gonna die  
All that I want  
Is a hole in the ground  
You can tell me when it's alright  
For me to come out
> 
> -Hard Times, Paramore

_ Dear Ginny, _

_ _

_ My darling, your father and I are so proud of you. A fifth year and a starting Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. This isn’t something to hide, let me tell you. I hope that you had an appropriate celebration. I’m sure that Romilda is the best party-thrower (though not too good, I hope. You still are  _ ** _underage_ ** _ ). I have told practically everyone magical in the village, and I look forward to supporting my two youngest at the first Quidditch match of the season. _

_ _

_ I am happy that classes are going well, too. With your new commitment to the Quidditch team, I will remind you that school must  _ ** _always _ ** _ come first. Do you hear me, Ginevra Weasley? If I hear wind of you slipping in even one class, it’s  _ ** _off _ ** _ the Quidditch team. The rules were the same for every one of you and it won’t change for you either. _

_ Now, on the question of that new broom, I’m sorry, Ginny, but your father and I can’t afford it just now _

And Ginny folds the letter back up, her stomach sinking. She’d suspected that it wouldn’t happen for her. They’d bought Ron a new broom just last year, and there was no way they would be able to afford a new one, like the one they’d got for him. But, Ginny thought that, maybe, they could afford an older model. She hadn’t asked for anything like a  _ Firebolt _ . She sighs to herself and looks down to scan the remainder of the letter.

It’s made of apologies that Ginny  _ knows  _ are heartfelt, but she can’t help the tiniest bit of resentment that she feels. When she recognizes it for what she knows it is, she crushes it. Her mum and dad try their very best. It’s not her place to  _ resent  _ them.

But, she can’t help her irritation.

Ginny looks up from her letter and stuffs it into her bag, turning her attention over to Seamus and Dean. They aren’t even paying attention to the homework they’re allegedly doing. They’re throwing tiny wadded up pieces of parchment through each other’s fingers.

“What are you doing?” she snaps.

Seamus and Dean don’t even look at her.

“Playing Keeper,” Dean mumbles.

“Are you really?” she drawls, unimpressed, and this time, Dean catches the derision in her voice because he looks up, his eyebrows drawing in.

“What’s your problem  _ now _ ?” he asks.

Ginny gapes at him and draws back, staring at him for a long time. “Why do you say that like I always have a problem?” she demands.

“Because you kinda do,” Dean retorts. He drops his hands and Seamus groans his disappointment, glaring at Ginny like this is all her fault, and maybe it is, but it just pisses Ginny off even  _ more. _

“Maybe I wouldn’t if we did more than just fuck around with Seamus.”

And then, Seamus says something rather damning: “Maybe you should find your own friends.”

Dean’s building anger drops dramatically, and he turns to stare at Seamus in disbelief.

“Mate,” Dean mumbles.

Even Seamus looks like he can’t believe what just came out of his mouth. Ginny stares at him for a long time because for a moment, she thought...she thought  _ Seamus  _ was—

“Okay,” Ginny says softly. She takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

She stuffs her work back into her bag and stands up, even as Dean reaches out to her.

“He didn’t mean—”

“He did,” Ginny says firmly, turning to look at Seamus. Seamus’ eyes are wide and he’s shaking his head, and his mouth gaping, but no words come out. “And that’s fine, because he’s right. You have your  _ mate  _ time. I’ll go find my friend.”

She can’t say ‘friends’ because, really, she’s only got one.

But, at least, she knows where she is.

Ginny walks out of the library with her head held high and as she leaves, she hears Dean start in on Seamus, anger savaging his voice and she smiles because even though Dean and she just had a little tiff, he defends her. That smile practically dies as she walks through Hogwarts alone, and she lets the disappointment of the fact that she only has her boyfriend and his friends, and she has her brother’s broom. All hand-me-downs, and none truly belonging to her.

She finds herself walking from the castle, towards Hagrid’s hut, and then, she passes it before she realizes that she’s going to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, near the thestrals’ paddock. She’s in the mood to throw spells, and now, she knows that it’s best not to direct them towards the invisible creatures that she can’t see. As she walks closer, she can see a dot of silver, and her lips curl into a smile when she recognizes it.

“Luna! Hey!” she calls, waving her hand.

Luna turns around and though Ginny is still a walk away, she can practically feel Luna beaming.

All of the resentment just burns away, and Ginny might be smiling a little by the time she reaches Luna. Luna grabs her hand and smiles up at her.

“Hello, Ginny!” she says, cheerfully, like she’s genuinely happy to see her. “I’m just here until it’s time for dinner. The thestrals are quite cheerful this evening.”

She says it like there’s nothing ironic about death horses being cheerful.

It’s absolutely endearing.

Ginny grins. “I’m pretty fed up with Dean and Seamus, and I thought you’d be around here somewhere. Have you started the Care homework yet? I hope it’s easy because I have this Potions—” and Ginny trails off as she realizes that they’re not alone.

Harry Potter is standing in the middle of the thestral paddock, very carefully pretending that Ginny doesn’t exist.

“Luna?” Ginny breathes, softly, because Harry looks as skittish as a thestral might.

“I told you that I’m friends with plenty of sad people,” Luna says.

Ginny stares at Harry, but he refuses to look away from what is presumably a thestral. His head is bent forward, hair falling into his eyes, but she can see how red his cheeks are.

“Luna,” Harry mutters. He looks over at Ginny, sheepish. “I’m not  _ sad _ .”

It sounds true, but also, very much like a lie.

“I can go,” Ginny mutters even though there’s nowhere else she wants to be, more than here.

Harry shakes his head. “No.  _ No _ ,” he insists. He grabs her hand, tugs her forward, hard enough to make her stumble into his side. She stares up at him, but he’s guiding her hand towards something that she can’t see.

Ginny gasps when she feels something soft and leathery, and then hot snorts against her palm.

“Is that…” Ginny trails off.

Harry nods. “A thestral.”

“And  _ you  _ can see them?” Ginny asks.

Harry closes his eyes, and slowly nods. “Yes, I can see them.”

“Why?” Ginny asks before she can stop herself. Luna is still singing a funny tune to herself, her lilting voice giving an ethereal air to the space, like the clearing is a pocket outside of space and time.

“I was four when my parents died. I...knew what was happening,” Harry admits. He lets go of her hand and takes a step back. Ginny loses herself in petting the snout of the thestral. “Careful. Don’t poke him in the eye.”

“I won’t. What’s his name?” Ginny asks.

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know. Luna names them all,” he says. He looks over his shoulder. “What’s his name, Lu?”

Luna spins, dancing across the clearing, barefoot again. “Philip.” She never stops dancing or singing.

“That doesn’t...seem...well, okay,” Ginny says when she can’t think of anything else to say. “Well, hello, Philip.”

There’s an answering huff against her palm.

“That’s…” Ginny trails off, huffing out a laugh.

“Incredible, yeah?” Harry asks, grinning back at her. The moment she smiles at him, Harry unwinds, and he looks comfortable again. “I didn’t know you knew Ginny Weasley, Luna.”

“I didn’t know you knew her either,” Luna says mildly from where she’s spinning.

Harry barks out a laugh. “I’m friends with her brother.”

“Doesn’t mean you know her,” Luna retorts just as sweetly.

It’s Ginny’s turn to laugh now as she pets Philip, unable to get over the texture. He’s so velvety and smooth, and she can feel his hot breath against her calloused palms. She wishes that she knew what he looked like. She bets that he’s beautiful.

“So, how do you know Luna?” Ginny asks.

Harry shrugs. “My third year, I used to come down here a lot, and once, on my way, I saw her shoes hanging from the rafters. I brought them down for her,” Harry says.

“From the rafters?” Ginny asks, confused.

“People aren’t very kind,” Harry answers, his voice just a little harder. He looks over at Luna, his lips twitching into a smile when he looks at her. “No one bothers you anymore, do they, Luna?”

“No!” Luna calls. She stops her spinning and laughs, reaching out for another thestral. She lays a kiss to his snout and then dances over to the pair of them. “In every life, Harry would have a hero complex. He can’t help but save everyone.”

“Hey!” Harry protests.

Luna shrugs. “I can’t speak anything but the truth,” Luna insists. “Say, Harry, are you any good at Potions?”

“I’m utter pants at it, why?” Harry asks.

“Oh, well, Ginny is having some trouble with her essay. I thought you could help,” Luna says with a shrug.

Ginny almost blushes. She cuts a look over at Luna, but Luna doesn’t even notice. Or rather she pretends not to. In Ginny’s limited and rather new experience with Luna, Luna notices far more than she pretends to. Ginny actually thinks Luna notices everything and only pretends that she doesn’t so that she can make people more comfortable.

“You should ask Hermione some time. She’s the smartest witch I know,” Harry says easily. His smile turns teasing. “And you need to keep your grades up, don’t you? I know what Molly Weasley’s rules are for her children on the Quidditch team.”

“Yeah, mum is a bit of a sergeant when it comes to marks.”

For a moment, Harry looks wistful. “I’m sure she is.”

The three remain in a companionable silence that soothes any anger away from Ginny. Luna perks up suddenly and both Ginny and Harry turn to look at her.

“Were you upset, Ginny? You always come here when you’re upset,” Luna says softly.

Ginny bites her bottom lip against her smile.

“Not anymore.”


	10. SATURDAY, 11:42AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny doesn't make a scene, because she's the Cool Girl.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> We'll separate day by day  
And we won't carry on  
'Cause we are far too young  
To mess it up, we've had enough  
Constantly on the run  
But we are not getting home
> 
> Run, Elsa & Emilie

“Hey.”

Ginny’s folded herself into the crimson chair by the window, _ A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot spread across her lap. She stares very intently at the wall, arms crossed over her chest. Then, she very deliberately looks down at the driest history textbook in the entire world and reads, ignoring Dean’s presence.

“Where were you yesterday? I looked for you.”

Ginny doesn’t look away from her textbook. She even turns the page, even if she isn’t absorbing a single iota of information.

“I was worried about you. If you’re going to run off, I need to know—”

Ginny stiffens and Dean cuts himself off like he can hear her temper ticking and hear her teeth grinding. He sighs, like _ she’s _being the difficult one.

“Gin, please. I just want to talk.”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk. Maybe I want to read _ A History of Magic _,” Ginny says stiffly. She leans back in her chair, taking up as much space as possible. “Maybe I don’t want to hear my boyfriend’s overprotective, irrational bullshit again.”

“Ginny, I’m _ sorry _,” Dean insists. “I shouldn’t’ve...I know you...Seamus is just—”

“This isn’t about Seamus,” she bites out, even though it’s a little about Seamus too. It’s a little bit about everything. “I don’t understand your problem, Dean. You think I’m _ ignoring _you now, and then you demand to know where I am, for my own ‘protection’?”

“Yes,” Dean blurts out. “But, I’m worried. Everyone—”

“Are you just going to listen to everyone now, Dean?” Ginny asks. Dean looks stricken dumb and Ginny softens at the wounded look in his eyes. She leans forward to grab his hand, sighing. “I can hex anyone that tries to get in my way. I’m a big girl.”

This is the type of shit she expects from her overprotective brothers until they’d learned that the world was more afraid of her than she of it. And if Dean _ was _ one of her brothers, she would’ve hexed him so that he got the point. Except, this isn’t one of her brothers. This is _ Dean _ , who she cares a great deal about. So, maybe he _ does _make her a little soft. She can pretend not to care.

“I just...I just want to protect you,” Dean says again. “But, you’re right. You’re a talented witch in your own right.”

“I survived six brothers for fifteen years without you, Dean. The world is no match to them,” Ginny insists. And, she can give a little. She _ can. _ “I appreciate you wanting to, though. Protect me. Just, it’s _ really _not necessary.”

Dean nods, reluctantly accepting her words.

“And Seamus—”

“I’ll deal with Seamus in my own time,” Ginny says. “He’s kinda right.”

“He’s _ not _,” Dean insists.

Ginny nods again. “He is. You’re friends. And I’m taking up a lot of his previous ‘mate-time’. I have Luna...Luna Lovegood. I’ll hang out more with her. And then, you and Seamus can hang out,” she decides. Even in her head, she’s making a schedule. “With me on the Quidditch team, my schedule will be getting pretty busy anyway. And it’s O.W.L year—”

“And what about time for us?” Dean challenges.

“Sunday mornings, yeah?” Ginny says. Dean looks shocked that she has an immediate answer. “Sunday mornings will always be about us. So, let’s spend this last Saturday morning together and stop _ arguing _.”

Dean smiles and bumps his nose against hers. “Yeah, let’s stop.”

She kisses him first and it doesn’t quite feel like coming home, not in the way that mum’s radio programmes always describe it, but it’s comfortable. She’s missed this, and she supposes that she’s missed him. Seamus isn’t there to interrupt or jeer and it’s that time where a lot of people are at breakfast, just before everyone streams back to get ready to hang out for the day. She pulls back to smile at him, pecking his lips.

“No Seamus here to stop us from snogging,” Ginny teases.

Dean groans against her mouth as he tugs her closer. “I don’t know what his _ problem _is,” he sighs.

Ginny does. Seamus is fucking jealous—like a little boy whose favorite toy was snatched away from him.

But, Ginny’s dealt with people like that. _ Romilda _was like that. She can deal with Seamus. She’ll make him like her. She’s cool.

She’s a _ cool girl _ . That’s one of the things Dean always called her before they got together: a _ cool _ girl. Being a cool girl means she is hot and brilliant and _ funny _ . She adores Quidditch and Exploding Snap and dirty jokes. She can eat like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang, while staying skinny, because she is a _ Cool Girl _. [1]

So, Ginny continues to be the cool girl. She kisses Dean and grabs his shoulders, leveraging herself closer because she knows he likes it when she clings to him. He likes a lot of things that Ginny doesn’t really care about, like cuddling—because she gets overheated in the night—and being romantic—which Ginny doesn’t _ mind _, but she’s never been one for PDA.

Dean and Millie used to snog all over the place like they were trying to win awards for it. You couldn’t turn a corner without finding them attempting to eat one another’s faces. Maybe that’s why everyone knew they were together. Maybe that’s why everyone knows that Ginny broke them up _ (except she didn’t because you can’t steal a person, and she’s tired of telling people this). _

Ginny finally breaks away from Dean when she hears the sound of people descending from the dorms. She tries to tug away from Dean but he makes a sound in the back of his throat.

“What?” he mumbles against her neck.

“Someone’s coming,” she insists and then she has to practically shove him away when she recognizes that familiar shade of red.

Ron grunts loudly, “Get out of my way, you git!” And Ron’s laughing as he says it, so Ginny knows who’s coming up next even before he trips down the next three steps and laughs, breathlessly.

“Hi, Harry,” Ginny calls as Harry and Ron tumble down the stairs, attempting to put one another in a headlock. Harry looks up at her, wide-eyed, grinning, and then, grunts when Ron finally conquers him, locking his arm around Harry’s neck in a loose chokehold.

“Hey, Ginny,” Harry grunts as he tries to buck Ron off. Finally, he escapes, shoving Ron away, and the pair cackle together, exchanging grins that Ginny has little insight into. “How are you?”

Ginny knows that he’s asking in comparison to yesterday.

“Great,” Ginny says with a smile.

Ron slinks over, flicking at Ginny’s forehead, and she scowls, shoving his hand away.

“Come on, Harry. You don’t have to talk to ickle Gin-Gin,” he teases.

“Fuck off, Ron!” Ginny snaps, her cheeks flushing bright red as she glares at her brother. She can tell that he’s only teasing, but it rubs her the wrong way, embarrassing her almost. “Don’t call me that.”

“You don’t have to be nice to my little sister,” Ron continues with a laugh. He pats Ginny on the head, the way Bill and Charlie have since she was little and continue to do to this day. She can barely tolerate them doing it, let alone _ Ron _. “Leave my friends alone.”

He’s still joking, but it aches just a little more.

“Later, Ginny,” Harry calls as he goes out the portrait hole, practically jogging to keep up with Ron’s long strides.

Just as sudden as chaos was introduced to the common room, it’s gone again. But, this time, it’s sucked all of the air out of the room. Ginny’s lungs are too tight in her chest, and she bites her bottom lip as she turns back to Dean. She’s about to complain, until she sees the thoughtful expression on Dean’s face.

No, not just thoughtful.

_ Pleased _.

Ginny’s heart hardens.

She forces a sweet smile on her face anyway. “What do you say to just you and I hanging out by the lake today? It’s nice out.”

Dean grins. “Let me just go get a blanket!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] A CLEAR reference to the Cool Girl monologue of Gone Girl fame. Just wanted to let y'all know.
> 
> And another thanks to EXARITE!


	11. MONDAY, 6:07PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we meet the indomitable, the irrevocable, the intelligent, the insidious, and the incredibly handsome: Tom Marvolo Riddle
> 
> ~*~
> 
> I came, I saw, I came, I saw  
I praise the Lord, then break the law  
I take what's mine, then take some more  
It rains, it pours, it rains, it pours  
I came, I saw, I came, I saw  
I praise the Lord, then break the law  
I take what's mine, then take some more  
It rains, it pours, it rains, it pours
> 
> Praise The Lord (Da Shine) (Feat. Skepta), A$AP Rocky

Ginny is practically running from the Great Hall after dinner. Dean missed dinner so she sat alone. It happens more often than not. It’s always in her best interest to eat fast when that happens, and go to meet Dean so that they can snog until Ginny has to inevitably start working on her homework because OWLs preparation is really kicking her arse, and that’s without the new demand of Quidditch practices on her plate.

In her head, she compiles a list of things to do so that she’ll have time to do things besides snog Dean and Quidditch. She can’t fail any of her classes. She can’t even slip. OWLs depend on practically every single assignment, and they loom over her head even though they’re months and months away.

Her family is brilliant, all in different ways, but brilliant nonetheless. Bill got enough OWLs and NEWTs to be a curse breaker. Charlie’s a dragon breeder. Percy’s working in the Ministry. Fred and George have opened a shop. Now, it’s only Ginny and Ron, and Ron knows what he wants to do. He wants to be an Auror, and Ginny’s sure that he’ll go right ahead and impress Mum and Dad. But, Ginny’s the only girl. She has a little more to prove, she thinks, and she’s not sure if being a professional Quidditch player will be enough. It has to be enough.

She _ has _to be enough.

More than enough.

Exceptional.

She slows down only a little when she sees Luna and Harry standing together, chatting, with Hermione and Ron hanging back just a little bit, bickering between themselves. They’re hanging out by the courtyard, staring across the corridor opposite, where others hang out. Ginny’s noticed that this is sorta their spot. Now that she knows that they’re friends, Ginny sees them together almost everywhere.

Ginny continues onward; they’re not _ her _friends, after all.

“Ginny!”

Ginny stops and turns, unable to keep the surprise off her face. Luna is smiling at her, saint-like and lovely and _ strange _as ever.

“Luna, Harry, Hermione,” Ginny greets, nodding at each.

Ron squawks. “No hellos for your favorite brother?”

“You don’t even rank in the top five,” Ginny retorts with a grin.

“There’s only _ six _of us,” Ron presses. “You like Percy more than me?”

Ginny rolls her eyes and doesn’t deign to answer him. Instead, she approaches the group with trepidation, waiting for Ron to say something about them not being _ her _ friends, but he says nothing of the sort, which makes her think that _ maybe _ , his words really _ had _been a joke the other day.

“You’ve got wrackspurts all around your head,” Luna says with a hum, looking Ginny up and down. She reaches forward, grabbing Ginny by the hand, pulling her closer into the group. “Are you alright?”

“Just...a lot of work. OWLs,” Ginny groans.

“Oh, yes. I spend a lot of time on my studies,” Luna says, so matter-of-factly. It shouldn’t be a surprise though; she’s a _ Ravenclaw _ for a reason. She may be odd, but she’s also practically a genius.

“I could give you some of my notes,” Hermione says, hesitantly. She looks like she’s not sure if that was a good decision.

From Ron’s squawk, it doesn’t sound like one. “What? You wouldn’t show Harry and I last year!”

“I saw them,” Harry says with a shrug.

“You showed _ Harry _and not me?” Ron demands. He groans, pinching his nose. “I should’ve known: habibi!”

“Habibi,” Hermione confirms. Harry preens again.

Ginny leans forward. “What does that mean?”

“ ‘Habibi’?” Harry asks. Before Hermione can answer, he leans forward and whispers, “It means that I’m her _ favorite _.”

Ron sticks out his tongue and rolls his eyes.

“It’s Arabic,” Hermione says. “And it does mean he’s my favorite.”

“That’s not hard when your only competition is Ron,” Ginny says almost automatically.

Harry throws back his head and laughs, long and hard. “I _ like _her,” he declares.

Ginny flushes, pleased with herself.

Before she can say something else witty, she watches a trio of girls walk by. She tenses, expecting it to be Romilda, but only sees the Patil twins with Lavender trailing behind them, looking contrite and put out for some reason or the other. When she sees Ginny staring at her, she straightens and smiles brightly.

“Ginny!” she cheers. The Patil twins whip around to stare at her. “Go on without me.”

They don’t hesitate before continuing onward. Lavender Brown is pretty. Seamus and Dean talk about her tits almost as much as they talk about Greengrass’. Her blonde waves are tamed back, nice and sleek. Ron doesn’t seem immune to her prettiness either, from the way he practically starts drooling when he sees her.

“Lavender, hey,” Ginny says uncertainly.

Lavender practically and positively presses herself against Ginny’s side, staring down at her with a grin on her face. “_ Hey_,” she says. “Your hair looks amazing.”

“Uh, thanks. Did...you need something?” Ginny asks because Lavender Brown isn’t the type of girl that talks to girls like Ginny Weasley.

‘Lavender Browns’ are cool and beautiful and everyone loves them. Everyone wants a Lavender Brown or wants to be a Lavender Brown.

“No, silly,” Lavender coos. “I’m just catching up. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Are we?”

“If we aren’t, we should be,” Lavender insists. And from any other person, Ginny would think she’s being set up for failure, but there’s something so genuine in Lavender’s eyes that to doubt her would be like spitting at a Pygmy Puff.

“Sure, we can be friends,” Ginny allows.

Lavender beams. “Great! So, what are you all talking about?”

“Nothing in particular,” Hermione demures, her nose already wrinkling.

Ron leans forward. “So, uh, how do you, uh, know Ginny?”

“I watched her Quidditch tryout. It was _ wicked_,” Lavender insists.

“How have your first few weeks been?” Harry asks, leaning against the stone, looking down at Lavender.

For a moment, she looks just as starstruck as Ginny sometimes feels when talking to Harry Potter. Ginny hopes that she looks less obvious than Lavender. Lavender schools her expression quickly and shrugs.

“Okay. Divination is getting tougher. I see that you three dropped it,” Lavender says coolly.

Ginny hides a smile behind her hand, and she looks over at Ron. He’s still staring at Lavender, stupidly, and Hermione looks annoyed just by the _ mention _of Divination.

“Have you considered Arithmancy?” Luna asks dreamily.

Hermione looks surprised.

“No, what’s that?” Lavender asks, curiously.

“It’s a class about the magical properties of numbers. You predict the future using numbers and numerology,” Luna says sweetly.

Hermione leans in and mutters, “It’s more _ probability _—”

“You predict the future using numbers and numerology,” Luna repeats, her voice just a little harder and Hermione falls back, her lips twitching.

“Yes, that,” she says, strained and awkward.

“That sounds so _ interesting_. Are any of you in that class?” Lavender asks, sounding genuinely in awe.

“I am,” Hermione volunteers.

“You _ must _ tell me all about it. I really am fascinated by the future. I’ve been reading a lot about Muggles predicting the future too. Using _ tarot _ cards. I wonder what could happen if we used that as a magical conductor, like a _ wand, _” Lavender says curiously.

Hermione’s face practically lights up at the very idea. “What an interesting idea—”

“Well, they’re off,” Harry says with an indulgent smile. He ignores Lavender and Hermione’s back and forth exchange of ideas, and turns to Ron, Luna, and Ginny. “Where were you off to before we stopped you, Ginny?”

“Nowhere, really. Library,” Ginny says with a shrug.

She doesn’t mention Dean. She couldn’t. There’s something so comfortable and right, in this group of people. There’s an easiness to them and none of them stare at her with judgment or expectation. She just exists—not as a slag or a boyfriend stealer or a girlfriend or an ex-best friend.

She’s just _ Ginny_.

“Who’d you have dinner with? Didn’t see Dean or Seamus,” Ron asks.

Ginny flushes. “Uh...no one.”

Harry looks at her thoughtfully but doesn’t say anything. He leans into the stone. “Excited for Quidditch practice on Saturday?”

“_ Yes_,” Ginny gushes immediately. “I just...you don’t understand how excited I am.”

“I might have an idea,” Harry says with a slow smile. He looks over at Luna and then at Hermione and Lavender.

Hermione and Lavender are still debating the power of prophecy and the future, but it’s lost its edge. Hermione looks casual and less condescending and Lavender seems to be holding her own, quite well. Lavender pulls back when she notices everyone staring at the pair of them, and she brightens, shaking her head.

“But, enough about work. Any plans for the weekend?”

“Studying for NEWTS?” Hermione suggests.

“But, that’s not for another _ year_,” Lavender insists.

Ginny shrugs. “Studying for OWLs and Quidditch practice. What about you?”

Lavender launches into a to-do list. It’s long-winded, but Ginny relaxes into hearing it and subsequently, everyone else gets comfortable. Hermione even pulls a book from her bag and starts to read while Lavenders lists nearly all of her errands. Ginny doesn’t even find it irritating. Just endearing. She thinks that the Patil twins probably don’t treat Lavender very well because she starts out nervous, but when no one tells her to ‘shut up’, Lavender brightens. Ginny’s sure they don’t do it intentionally, but it’s hard to add a third wheel to a functioning bicycle.

“_ Anyway, _forget homework. We’ve already missed the first party of the year,” Lavender whinges.

Ginny finds it more cute than annoying. Lavender’s _ enthusiastic_, she’s learning.

“The first party? Where?” Hermione asks, looking up from her book with a sharp-eyed glint to her gaze. Harry snorts and Hermione glares at him, lips pursed.

“What?” Ginny breathes.

“Hermione’s like a bloodhound about parties,” Harry says, singing the last word like its meant to be a temptation.

Ron grins. “You’d think she’d want to shut them down, but she likes going to them.”

“No,” Hermione protests. “You peer pressure me! And I have to keep you both out of _ trouble _.”

“Are we troublemakers, Ron?” Harry drawls.

Before Ron can confirm, Hermione pokes Harry hard in the chest and mutters, “You know you are, habibi.”

“Parties?” Ginny asks politely.

Lavender spins and squeals as she looks at both Ginny and Luna. “Oh, right. You’re both fifth years. When you get to fifth year, you start finding out about the _ parties _. The Slytherins always host the best ones. The first one is the ‘welcome back’. It was Hufflepuff’s turn to host it this year?” Lavender asks and she turns to Luna, as if she expects her to know anything about it.

“I don’t really go to parties,” Luna says dreamily.

Lavender laughs. “We’ll change _ that _.”

“Why do you want to go to a party so badly?” Ginny asks, curiously. She can tell that Lavender is a bit of a party girl—she’d heard an argument once between Lavender and Padma Patil about it—but she has a light in her eyes that speaks to ulterior motives.

“Well…” Lavender drawls, and then she trails off, eyes caught on something far away. She reaches over, shoving Hermione on the shoulder. “_ Guys._”

Ginny turns and her cheeks burn.

Tom Marvolo Riddle isn’t wearing his robes, instead dressed in a long black coat, his trousers and uniform button-down, the first few buttons undone. He’s tall, taller than any other boy at Hogwarts, except _ maybe _Ron. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair, curling just around his ears, but short enough to show off his strong jaw and his cheekbones.

Tom Marvolo Riddle has always been fucking _handsome. _

He leads the other Death Eaters across the courtyard, without wavering, his burgundy stare on a target far away. Ginny bites down hard on her lip and squirms, because she almost gets wet, just from looking at him. He disappears through the long corridor adjacent to the courtyard, and for a moment, Ginny just hears the rushing of her own blood.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Lavender breathes.

Harry snorts, and Ginny stares at him, wide-eyed.

“You want to snog him?” Harry asks in disbelief.

Hermione purses her lips. Even she looks mildly uncomfortable, thrown off by the sudden appearance and subsequent disappearance of one of the most attractive guys in school.

“Everyone wants to snog him, Harry,” Hermione says, distractedly.

“You _ do _?” Ron bawks. “Sometimes, Hermione...you almost sound like a girl.”

Hermione absentmindedly smacks him on the shoulder with her book.

“Tom Riddle is _ everything_,” Lavender says softly. She turns to Ginny, her eyes bright with an obsessive fervor. “ _ Everything _.”

And Ginny almost believes her.


	12. WEDNESDAY, 4:37 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which, a Captain and his Chaser bond.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> And we'll never be royals  
It don't run in our blood  
That kind of lux just ain't for us  
We crave a different kind of buzz  
Let me be your ruler, you can call me Queen B  
And baby I'll rule (I'll rule I'll rule I'll rule)  
Let me live that fantasy
> 
> Royals, Lorde

“I’m hopeless at this,” Harry confesses for a third time, sighing. He doesn’t slam his Transfiguration book closed, though, instead staring harder at his chicken scrawl of an essay. He stares like it’s supposed to make more sense the longer he does.

“Maybe you should outline your essay?” Ginny suggests.

Harry looks up from his work, his lips twitching. “You sound like Hermione.”

“Maybe she’s right?” Ginny challenges, her lips curling into a slow smile.

“Maybe, she is,” Harry agrees. He doesn’t make a move to do as she suggests. “What are you working on?”

“Defence homework. Aren’t you top of your year in Defence?” Ginny asks. She asks like she doesn’t know that’s a fact and not speculation. Harry has always been leaps and bounds ahead of everyone else in Defence, even if he’s average in everything else.

“What does Moony have you working on?” Harry asks. He tilts his head. “I think it’s supposed to be combination spellcasting? It’s supposed to get you ready to learn how to duel.”

“Moony?”

“Remus, sorry. I call him Moony. He’s always been Moony to me,” Harry says with a shrug. “Because of the werewolf thing. Padfoot and Moony.”

“Do they have a name for you?”

“Sirius claims my mother called me ‘Bambi’,” Harry says with a roll of his eyes. “My dad was Prongs.”

Harry turns back to his work as Ginny processes this information. It’s weird to be studying with the boy who Ginny used to have a devastating crush on. It’s weird that Dean is somehow jealous of him in some way, when Harry seems otherworldly and unattainable in a strangely weird way.

“Have you started duelling yet?” Ginny asks, awkwardly.

Harry looks up. “Not yet. It’s still a lot of theory. Moony says we won’t start until November, at the earliest.”

“And how’s Riddle as a TA? Does he want to be a professor, you think?” Ginny asks.

Harry shrugs. “He’s just...there. Smug, as per usual.”

“You don’t like him much.”

“He hasn’t given me a reason to,” Harry says. He says it in this _ voice _ , like he knows something about the mysterious Tom Riddle and that he doesn’t care to share that information. He taps his essay with his quill and sighs, shaking his head. “I think I’ll have to scrap it and start over. It’s due tomorrow. Hermione was _ right _. I should’ve started days ago.”

Ginny hums. “Why...did you ask to study with me?” Ginny asks.

Harry shrugs. “Why not?”

“Just...we’re not friends,” Ginny admits, forcing the words from her mouth. They taste like ash on her tongue. She watches Harry, carefully. He seems to stiffen under her words and he looks up at her, slowly. Somehow, his glasses just intensify the green of his eyes.

“We’re not?” Harry asks, slowly.

“Oh, I didn’t...Ron says we can’t be friends, because you’re _ his _friend.” The moment Ginny speaks the words, she hears how childish they are.

Harry’s lips twitch.

“Ron doesn’t own me. And he’s not saying it because he doesn’t want us to be friends. First, he’s teasing you. Second, he’s protective. Hermione and he both are.”

“Because of what happened...with your adoption?” Ginny asks.

She’s not sure which part of it she’s asking about. Everyone knows about the entire thing.

Harry’s parents died when he was a child—four, apparently—and it had been labeled a hate crime—the first of its kind in the wizarding world.

It made sense, especially when Lily Evans-Potter was known for her push on legislation protecting targeted minorities in the magical community, namely Muggleborns and certain Creatures, such as house elves, goblins, werewolves, and Veela. But, instead of going straight to his godfather, something had happened and Harry had found himself in the care of Muggles while Sirius Black had been convicted for the murder of his two best friends.

And then, everyone had found out that Sirius Black had been _ wrongfully _ convicted, just around the time that Harry had finally come to Hogwarts. It had been a media circus, and it only grew when the world found out that Sirius Black’s partner, Remus Lupin, was a _ werewolf _.

“Yeah. A lot of people wanted pieces of me. And that was new for me. I didn’t understand,” Harry says, softly, almost to himself. He stares down at his parchment, practically unseeing.

“Am I...am I taking pieces of you?” Ginny asks in a whisper.

Harry looks up sharply. “No. You’re not. No more than I give to my friends.”

“Good. Friends, then,” Ginny decides.

“Are _ you _okay?” Harry asks.

Ginny startles. “What?”

“People talk. They say really shitty things. Hermione had to stop Ron and me from hexing two Ravenclaws. Pretty sure that she Confunded McLaggen at the tryouts for what he said about you,” Harry says, his lips curling into a smirk, nodding in triumph. Ginny’s eyes widen at the unspoken loyalty.

“Do you want to know if it’s true?” Ginny mumbles.

Harry considers her for a long time and then says, “I don’t think it’s my business.”

Ginny looks at him. He doesn’t expect answers from her, just like Ron and Hermione didn’t. Just like Luna and Lavender. But, it means something coming from Harry Potter, who is private and almost _ shy _, and yet, he just answered her questions like it wasn’t a problem that she was practically interrogating him.

“Romilda and Dean _ were _together. They started dating when she was in fourth year and he was in fifth year. They weren’t in love. And they fought. She didn’t want to be with him anymore, towards the end, and she would talk about it all the time,” Ginny says. She falls back into her chair and stares up at the cavernous roofs, cast in shadow, the tall bookcases disappearing into the ether. “I liked Dean. And we grew closer. He visited me at the Burrow. We wrote. He broke up with Romilda. And then, we got together. Now, everyone thinks I’m the whore that seduced her best friend’s boyfriend.”

Harry stares at her and nods.

“Everyone thinks I’m frigid,” Harry says with a shrug. “Who cares what everyone else thinks?”

Ginny snorts. “I think we both do. At least, a little bit.”

Harry’s lips curl into a smile.

“Maybe a little.”

They exchange smiles, and Ginny even laughs a little before she turns her attention back to her Defence reading. Combination spellcasting is complicated, something that Ginny thought was for duellists and Aurors. She’d never expected that she’d need to know how to do it, but it makes sense that she’s at least learning the theory. Next year, she’ll be able to quit Defence, if she wants to, though she doesn’t think she’ll want to. It’s better to be a well-rounded witch than a half-arsed one.

And it would be pretty impressive to be a professional Quidditch player with stellar OWLs and NEWTs. It meant that she was a Quidditch player, not because she wasn’t smart, but because she was smart _ and _an excellent fucking Chaser.

Ginny almost starts to get combination spell casting when familiar, broad hands slide over her shoulders, squeezing there. Ginny’s lips twitch into a smile against her will.

“Hey, you,” Dean murmurs against her hairline. He takes a deep breath and revels in the scent of her floral perfume. Ginny’s lips curl into a smile.

“Hey yourself,” Ginny whispers. She tilts her face up and leans up to press a kiss to Dean’s lips. Dean sinks his fingers into Ginny’s hair and she presses up into them, like they belong there as she licks the seam of his lips. She pulls back before the kiss can deepen.

From the corner of her eye, she glances at Harry. He’s smiling at them; there’s nothing forced about it, nothing that says he’s putting it on for her sake. He’s _ happy _for her, where no one else has been.

“I’m gonna go,” Harry says. He looks over at Dean. “Hey.”

“Hey, man. You don’t have to—” Dean starts.

Harry shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’m gonna bug Hermione into letting me look at her Transfiguration essay.”

“Shit,” Dean hisses. “I have to get started on that.”

“Good luck, mate,” Harry says, sliding the rest of his books into his bag. He stands up and nods at Ginny. “Remember. Practice on Saturday.”

“Loud and clear, Captain,” Ginny says.

Harry’s lips twitch at the words, and he nods again before he leaves the quiet little alcove. Dean falls into the seat next to Ginny and throws his arm around her shoulders. He pulls her close, rubbing his cheek against the crown of her hair.

“I missed you today,” he whispers softly.

Ginny smiles and relaxes into the warmth of him. “I missed you too.”


	13. SATURDAY, 8:00 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny takes off.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "Mama told me not to waste my life,  
She said spread your wings my little butterfly  
Don't let what they say keep you up at night  
And they can't detain you  
'Cause wings are made to fly  
And we don't let nobody bring us down  
No matter what you say it won't hurt me  
Don't matter if I fall from the sky  
These wings are made to fly"
> 
> -Wings, Little Mix

Ginny changes into her Quidditch leathers with a sort of reverence. She slides on the trousers first and tucks her feet in long crimson and gold socks that have a sweat-repelling charm. Then, she puts on her boots and stares at her reflection in the mirror. She’s standing there, topless, her red hair falling over her freckled chest and she swallows. She looks so small.

Demelza Robins and Katie Bell are making small talk behind her, but Ginny can hardly hear them over the rushing of her own blood in her ears. She turns away from her reflection and walks to the parchment paper wrapped package that had been given to her on her way into the changing rooms. She pulls the string and the package practically unravels.

A ‘6’ is emblazoned in gold across the front. Ginny lifts the jersey, the cape flowing out, and she turns it around and sees her name.  _ WEASLEY. _

Ginny pulls it over her head and swallows as she turns to pull her hair back in a ponytail. When she looks in the mirror, she sees Katie Bell straddling a bench, watching her with a small smile. Ginny smiles back at her, uncertainly.

“What?” Ginny asks.

“It really suits you,” Katie Bell says. She stands up, tall and sure, and she turns to face both of her new Chasers, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re part of a larger team. But, we have to work together. The three of us. We have to be like one. Can you do that? Can we be that?”

Demelza Robins is a fourth year—light and speedy—but she stares them down like a lioness. She nods firmly and crosses her arms over her chest, as if they can’t see the light tremor of her upper lip. She’s nervous but sure.

“Yes,” she says.

Katie Bell doesn’t need to ask Ginny. She nods. “Okay. Let’s go then,” she declares.

She leads them out, and Ginny follows right after her and then Demelza. They each reach for their broom. Katie Bell has a Nimbus 2001. Demelza Robins has a  _ Comet 290 _ . Ginny swallows her envy and clutches her brother’s Cleansweep Five. She knows that broom. Trusts it. It’s okay if she doesn’t have a new broom, that her parents can’t swing it. She got on the team with her brother’s broom, and she’s unashamed.

Katie leads them onto the pitch, and both she and Demelza take off immediately, shooting up into the sky where the rest of the team hovers, waiting for them. Ginny can’t make herself do it. She swallows, nervous and stiff as she watches. They make room for the two other girls, and even from the ground, Ginny can see Harry. He’s balancing on his Firebolt, hands moving this way and that as he communicates with his hands.

“How are you?”

Ginny very deliberately stops herself from jumping because if Ron caught sight of it, he’d never let her hear the end of it. She turns to her older brother and fights back a grimace.

“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The first time I went to practice, I thought I was going to be sick,” Ron says. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, and Ginny envies the Cleansweep Eleven that  _ he  _ had been gifted when he’d finally made it on the team.

“Why? You’ve always been a fair Keeper,” Ginny says.

Ron snorts. “Exactly. A ‘fair’ Keeper.”

“Ron—”

“Oliver Wood was better than fair. He’s on Puddlemere United now. And I was supposed to take his place. I did fair in the tryouts, but my first practice, I didn’t save a single Quaffle.”

“We won all three of our games. We won the Cup.”

“It’s hard, you know. Being the last son out of six,” Ron says. His ears are red, like he hates to admit this, like he hates to admit weakness. Like Ginny doesn’t know how Ron  _ feels  _ about being the youngest son out of six, the last son before the wanted daughter. Ginny can see how it makes him feel. “Charlie was a Seeker. Fred and George were Beaters.  _ You’re  _ a Chaser. And this, being Keeper, is mine. So, I couldn’t be shit at it, you see? I don’t know what I would’ve done if I was  _ shit  _ at something all of the others can do.”

And Ginny wants to say,  _ But, Bill couldn’t do it. Percy couldn’t do it. You could _ , but she doesn’t think it would do him any good. These are things that have spiralled in Ron’s mind for ages. To say that they were wrong would ruin him. He wasn’t ready to know that he was a kind of his own. Ginny didn’t think it was her place to tell him anyway.

_ (She didn’t want him to know that he was her favorite brother.) _

“How’d you get it together?” she asks instead.

“Stop thinking and playing like a fair Keeper, and tried to think and play like a good one,” Ron says with a snort. He still won’t look at her, keeping his eyes trained on the sky. “Listen, Gin—”

He stops himself. Sighs.

“What?”

“You’re better than fair. You’re going to be captain of the Holyhead Harpies one day. And this is the Hogwarts Quidditch League. You’re going to be fine,” Ron says firmly. He says it like he has nothing but the utmost confidence in her and against her will, Ginny smiles.

“Any other advice?” she whispers.

“Don’t fall off your broom.” With those final words, Ron mounts his broom and shoots off, leaving Ginny the only one still grounded.

She knows that this is a moment that means something. This is a single moment that means more than something, and it’ll determine her future. Ginny can’t remember the last time that a moment meant something. Not with Dean. Not with Romilda. Not with anyone. Because this is her moment, and hers alone.

Ginny looks down at her brother’s Cleansweep Five. She mounts it.

She  _ flies _ .


	14. SUNDAY, 9:25 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the Ginny Weasley Defence Squad finally forms!
> 
> ~*~
> 
> You don't have to love me  
You don't even have to like me  
But you will respect me  
You know why? 'Cause I'm a boss
> 
> -Bossy, Kelis

Ginny’s sore. She can feel it in the way her back cracks, the ache in her biceps, and most in her thighs, where they had been clenched tight around the broomstick. When she’d looked at herself in the shower that morning, she’d traced her hands between her legs, across the red of her pubic hair, and then hissed when she’d accidentally pressed on the blossoming bruises at the apex of her thighs.

So, Ginny’s bruised and battered. And she feels  _ amazing _ . She fights the smile working across her face as she digs into her breakfast, her mind still in the sky as she swooped through practice with her new teammates.

“Hey, Weasley.”

Ginny looks up, wide-eyed. Katie Bell walks by with her friend, Leanne, a Hufflepuff. Katie nods at her, doesn’t ignore her like Ginny doesn’t exist off the Quidditch Pitch.

“Hey, Bell,” Ginny says with a smile.

Leanne looks alarmed, and Ginny can hear her whisper of, “Isn’t that the girl—”

“Yeah, but she’s cool. Wicked Chaser, too,” Katie responds and she speaks so definitively that Leanne doesn’t say another word.

Ginny’s grin just grows as she digs into her eggs and drinks her pumpkin juice. She glances to the door again and doesn’t find that she’s  _ especially  _ eager for Dean and Seamus to walk through the door. She’d asked them to join her for breakfast last night, and they’d agreed, but Ginny wouldn’t hold them to it. She knows that they’re the type to sleep in late.

Ginny isn’t really like that, especially not when she feels like wild magic, alive with the leftover energy of yesterday’s practice.

“Ginny. Ginny Weasley?”

She hears a smattering of boys’ laughter, snickering and snorting, and she already knows what’s going to happen before she even decides to look up. She squints up at the group of boys—her year, all Gryffindors, all prats—led by Colin Creevey of all people. Ginny remembers a time when Creevey was the one people laughed at, especially when he went around stalking Harry Potter during his third year.

“Can I help you, Creevey?” she asks. Very carefully, she draws her wand from her sleeve, sets it on the table next to her breakfast plate.

Colin doesn’t even mind it. He’s smiling, but it’s mean, in a childish, petty way. His younger brother bumps him, pushing him—Dennis Creevey was an eternal hanger-on, and according to Ron, even worse than Colin.

“Is it, uh, is it true that you fucked Dean and Seamus before choosing to get with Dean? Just to see which was better?”

Ginny feels her heart stop. No one is talking anymore. Everyone’s  _ staring _ . She looks down the table, at the center of this  _ shit _ .

Romilda smiles down the table at her and waggles her fingers like a fucking villain out of one of Ginny’s mum’s programmes on the WWN. Fucking  _ witch _ .

Ginny grabs her wand and points it at Colin, sneering. “What did you say, you little—”

“And how is that any of  _ your  _ business?”

Ginny nearly drops her wand, looking up.

Lavender is smiling, pleasantly, and she’d look lovely, if it weren’t for the glint to her eyes. Luna stands just behind her, the hazy look in her eyes sharper. Her eyes aren’t the color of pale storm clouds now. No, they’re steel.

“I was just…” Colin starts. He looks to his friends for backup, but Lavender steps forward.

She is still all smiles. She’s the type of girl who uses courtesy as a knife.

“I’m going to lay out the five points of my argument, would you like to hear them?” Lavender asks. Colin can’t even respond. “Five: that’s sexist and insulting. You’d never ask Dean or Seamus that question. Four: the lengths that you’re going to, to harass my friend over something that isn’t any of your business, are absurd. Three: the fact that you’re so interested in  _ lies  _ and  _ slander  _ in the first place is a concern. You should see a Mind Healer about that. Two: in the past minute or so, you called my friend a liar, a whore, and an idiot, so this is going to be the last time you even  _ look  _ at her. So  _ one _ : who she is or is not  _ fucking _ , what she is and is not  _ doing _ , is none of your damn business.” [1]

There’s an echo in the silence.

Lavender’s still smiling.

Colin’s cheeks burn bright red and he opens his mouth to say something and then closes it again. Luna hums to herself.

“I think you might want to leave now. The wrackspurts are all  _ over  _ you,” Luna says. She giggles to herself and Lavender’s smile transforms into something just a little meaner.

Colin and his little friends dash off, as uncomfortable laughter ripples through the table. Lavender sits down across from Ginny, and Luna joins her, sliding into the seat next to her.

“This isn’t the Ravenclaw table,” Ginny observes.

“I know,” Luna says and that’s the end of that.

Lavender scoffs. “I can’t believe he thought he could  _ ask  _ you that. The  _ audacity _ ,” she mutters. She looks down the table to throw another scathing look at Colin, but his head is bent over his breakfast plate, licking his wounds. Romilda looks shaken.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Ginny says. And then, she frowns. “I could’ve handled it on my own.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Lavender says, sounding very appalled at the very thought. “That was disgusting. Why would he even  _ say  _ something like that?”

Ginny glances down the table again. Romilda isn’t looking at her anymore, but she’s rigid in her rage. “I can guess,” Ginny mutters.

Luna hums. “I hear he’s hoping to date Romilda Vane now that she’s not with Dean.”

“Well, Romilda Vane is a  _ witch _ . Why is she trying to torment you?” Lavender asks softly, shaking her head.

Ginny swallows, looking down at her breakfast plate, because that means Lavender doesn’t  _ know _ . Lavender has surely heard the rumors. Hogwarts isn’t that big of a school. Everyone knows, and it’s very clear. But, Lavender. Well, Lavender doesn’t know that it’s  _ true _ .

“She’s not a very nice person, is she?” Luna sighs. She looks around and then brightens. “Oh, figs! We never have figs at the Ravenclaw table.”

Luna and Lavender busy themselves with fixing breakfast plates. Luna is all about rich fruits and peaks of butter on rosemary bread, while Lavender seems satisfied with just eggs and the tiniest bites of her sausages. Lavender leans over the table and begins to speak with Luna about something they must have been talking about before they’d decided to defend Ginny.

Ginny looks over for Lavender’s usual friends. Parvati is sitting with Fay Dunbar, and they look down the table at Lavender like she’s something to be examined. Ginny briefly wonders what happened there and then pushes it away because she’s suddenly grateful for Lavender Brown in a way that she can’t quite explain.

“Good morning! Room for three more?” Harry Potter beams down at them all from where he’s seemed to appear out of nowhere with both Ginny’s brother and Hermione.

Lavender answers before Ginny can form a coherent thought. She beams and says, “Of course!”

Ron sits on the other side of Ginny. Harry and Hermione settle next to Lavender.

“Full English kind of morning, isn’t it?” Ron declares as he begins to make his plate, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off of Lavender Brown. “How are you, Lavender? And  _ Luna _ ?”

He says the last part about ten seconds too late. Ginny laughs into her hand and she ignores his glare. Luna doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, I’m quite fine. You have figs at this table,” Luna says cheerfully. She digs into her own plate again with gusto.

“I’m just fine, Ron,” Lavender says with a smile. She looks around at the table. “Well, it looks like we’re all here, then.”

“ ‘We’?” Hermione asks as she hastily butters her toast.

“Yes. The Ginny Weasley Defence Squad,” Lavender says, like that’s a  _ thing _ .

“Colin Creevey is very rude,” Luna says, as if confirming. She frowns. “ ‘The Ginny Weasley Defence Squad’ is very long. Should we shorten it? To the Squad?”

“I like that very much,” Lavender agrees.

Ginny tries not to laugh. She will  _ never  _ call them a ‘squad’.

“What did Creevey say?” Ron asks, his voice hard. Ginny wonders if people have been careful about what they say about her when he’s around.

That’s rather stupid of them, she thinks. She doesn’t need Ron to fight her battles. She’ll hex the arseholes herself.

“He implied—” Lavender says delicately.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ginny interrupts shortly.

Ron raises an eyebrow. “If it doesn’t matter, why can’t I know?”

“Don’t try to come at me with circular reasoning. Creevey was rude. I was going to hex him. Lavender stepped in and eviscerated him with words. It’s over,” Ginny says and then she casts Lavender a smile. “It was actually rather brilliant.”

“Yes, it was the best of takedowns,” Luna agrees, clapping merrily.

Ron looks at Lavender for a long time, and it’s not the way he usually looks at her—like she’s hot and that he’d like a long look at her tits. No, he looks kinder, softer, somehow. Lavender stiffens under that stare.

“Well, thanks for defending her when I couldn’t,” Ron says.

Ginny scoffs, rolling her eyes, and pretends that what Ron says doesn’t strike her to her core, doesn’t make her want to smile.

“Of course. Like I  _ said,  _ ‘Ginny Weasley Defence Squad’,” Lavender says and she smiles prettily enough at Ron that he stops looking at her so seriously, and looks rather dumb again. Lavender looks comfortable with his attention again. She turns to Hermione. “Did you know I practically  _ begged  _ Professor McGonagall to let me into Arithmancy?”

Hermione looks pleasantly surprised. “Really? I haven’t seen you—”

“Oh, no, I’m with the fourth years. I tested out of the third year course and really, I would look rather ridiculous, wouldn’t I? A sixth year in a class of third years,” Lavender says with a laugh, shaking her head. “But, I am having a bit of trouble, you see. With my first assignment.”

Hermione nods understandingly and she leans in, entirely intrigued. “Yes, I remember that the transition to thinking in a numerological sense when casting is so emotion-based was very disconcerting.”

“Well, I hear that you’re the best in the entire school. Could you…um, help me?” Lavender asks, giving a charming smile and Hermione snorts, staring at her for a long moment. “Please, I’ll...I’ll do your hair!”

“I like how my hair is on its own, thanks,” Hermione says, still amused. She looks over at Harry, but he shrugs at her and smiles.

“We could make a big study group? Maybe it’ll motivate Ron and me to do our homework so that you won’t have to nag us,” Harry says. He grins at Ron’s dismay.

“A  _ study  _ group?” he whinges.

Lavender claps, bouncing up and down in her seat. “That’s an  _ excellent  _ idea. A  _ study  _ group. Luna and Ginny will join us too, of  _ course _ .”

Ginny’s eyes widen. She swallows thickly. “Yeah, of course.”

“This is great. And Luna,  _ you’re  _ a Ravenclaw. Someone who will finally care about their schoolwork as much as me,” Hermione says cheerfully.

Luna blinks. “That’s a dangerous stereotype. I don’t care about school.”

Harry snorts as Hermione’s expression falls. Luna blinks again.

“I’m only kidding,” Luna says with a rather vague smile. “I love getting Outstandings.”

Hermione looks at her for a long moment, pleasantly surprised. Harry leans into her side.

“Look, someone that loves being the best as much as you,” Harry teases.

Hermione shoves at him. “Okay, habibi.”

There’s something about this moment that feels like everything to Ginny. They all fall into this rhythm of familiarity, like they’d been around one another their entire lives. Ginny feels like she belongs and it’s overwhelming and lovely in so many different ways. For the first time in a long time, she feels grounded, just like she does in the sky.

When they come to breakfast, Ginny doesn’t even notice. Instead, she feels the familiar presence of Dean at her back and his hand on her shoulder. She tips her head back, presses into the thin layer of fat on his stomach and smiles.

“I thought we were doing breakfast,” Dean says with an uncertain smile. Seamus is frowning next to him.

Ginny doesn’t know what there’s to frown about.

“We were. You’re late,” Ginny says with a smile.

Dean shakes his head slowly and says softly, “We’re going to sit down there with Neville.”

Ginny straightens, her smile falling away because she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand why he’s frowning at her like that, why he’s looking at her like that, like she’s done something wrong.

“Why?” Ginny asks.

Dean sighs and steps back. He smiles again, enough for the others to think it’s real, but Ginny knows Dean. She  _ knows _ .

“Gin, there’s no room.”

He doesn’t say anything else, walking away with Seamus casting another look back. Ginny looks around at the table. No one seems to have heard. Lavender is across from Ginny, laughing at something Ron has said, and Hermione is deeply engrossed in a lecture that Harry seems only half-invested in listening to, from the look of it, as he leans in to make a comment to Lavender. No one has noticed.

There’s no room.

“Are you okay?” Luna asks.

Luna stares at her. Luna knows.

“Yeah,” Ginny says. “Yeah, everything’s great.”

She isn’t sure if she’s lying or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Scandal, Season Two: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wuX0dNF82jg
> 
> Also, I believe this is one of my favorite chapters of the entire fic, because this is when FRIENDSHIP is MAGIC really starts happening, and I just LOVE it. Anyway, here you go!


	15. TUESDAY, 11:17 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which, during a break, Ginny pens a letter.

_ Dear Mum, _

_ _

_ Another Quidditch practice gone by. It was excellent, but we ran so many drills. It felt different than running drills by myself all summer. I know you’d watch me get up at dawn to go fly in the back (you always yell at me for leaving the backdoor open, and yes, I’m  _ sorry _ ). Running drills with Bell and Robins feels really great. I have teammates to rely on when I miss a throw. But, it’s also weird, having to share the ball. I’ll have to get used to that, for sure. _

_ I’m also proud to announce that I’ve joined a study group. Hermione Granger, Ron’s friend, has started it. You know how well she does, wrangling Ron into shape, so I’m sure you’ll be pleased that she’ll now have a hand in my own studying. But, I’ve never been as hopeless as Ron, so I hope she won’t feel the need to yell at me too often. _

_ As for that party, Romilda threw a great one. It was absolutely amazing. Yacine and Stella _

* * *

An arm wraps around her shoulders and Ginny folds the parchment to her chest quickly, laying her quill down on the sill with a smile. She leans back and tilts her face up to stare into her boyfriend’s face. 

“Hey, you,” Dean greets, leaning over to press a quick peck to her cheek. Ginny smiles, leaning into it, and she feels his smile against her cheek. She turns her face, tilts her head up again, demanding another kiss, and Dean gives it to her without much goading.

“Hey, you,” she returns, scooting over on her little window sill. Dean hops up, straddling it, his left leg growing damp from the misty drizzle that makes the morning a little gloomy.

Ginny should be reading for Care, but she’s a little late on her letter to her mum, and it’s best to get it out that day before Ginny gets a letter demanding to know if she’s disappeared and forgotten all about her mum. She hums, staring down at the letters, wondering what she should say that won’t give it all away.

“Look at you,” Dean sighs. “The prettiest girl in all of Hogwarts.”

Ginny’s glad for her long orange hair because her ears feel hot, suddenly.

“Stop,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head.

“But, it’s true. My pretty, talented girlfriend,” Dean sighs, staring at her like she’s something to be in awe of. Ginny used to want to be on the end of a look like that, but now, it honestly kind of scares her because it makes her wonder if she’s  _ worthy  _ of it.

“ _ Dean _ ,” she whinges.

Dean laughs. “Okay, okay,” he surrenders. “What are you up to?”

“Penning a letter to my mum to let her know that I’m not dead,” Ginny says.

Dean stares at her, bewildered.

“Wouldn’t Dumbledore let her know if you were dead?” he asks.

“You really don’t know how my mum thinks, Dean,” Ginny laughs, shaking her head.

Dean looks intrigued.

“I’d like to.”

It stops Ginny short. She stares at him for a long time and he stares back at her with a wry smile that she’d usually find cute.

“You do?” she squeaks.

“Yeah, your dad, too, of course, but mostly your mum. You’re really close to her, aren’t you?” Dean asks and Ginny considers that.

“I suppose,” she says slowly, unsure of herself.

Mum and Ginny had always been close, by virtue of being the only two women in the house. Mum would always stick up for her, and encourage her to stick up for herself. She’d always encouraged the boys not to mess with her because she was a girl, but she was also the one that always looked the other way when Ginny pranked the boys right back, because there were more of them than her.

“Then, I want to meet her. I want to meet the amazing woman that raised the amazing Ginny Weasley,” Dean says softly. He grabs her hand, squeezes it. It’s supposed to be reassuring, but Ginny isn’t sure if it is.

_ Reassuring _ , that is.

“How do you know she’s amazing?” Ginny jokes, smiling over at him. “She could be the absolute worst.”

“Come on, I don’t believe that. Remember,  _ you’re  _ amazing, therefore, she must be amazing,” Dean says.

And Ginny doesn’t know how to tell him.

She doesn’t know how to tell him that Ginny still writes to her Mum about her adventures with Millie. She still talks about Yacine and Stella like they’re still a quartet, when  _ they’re  _ a trio, and Ginny is a solo act. If Dean knew, he’d feel bad for her, and she’d hate that. And then, he’d feel bad for himself because she’s hiding him away, like he’s unworthy. And that’s not the problem; it isn’t at all.

_ (She’s not worthy of him _ , she thinks _ .  _ She’s also wrong. It’s not about worthy. _ ) _

But, she knows him. Dean is easily hurt. So, she can’t tell him that in the story of her life, he’s a side character, tier C, instead of love interest.

“I’ll mention it,” Ginny says with a smile when she sees the light in his eyes dim.

Dean brightens. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Dean vibrates with his excitement and he leans forward to press a quick kiss to her lips. “Maybe after your first Quidditch game? I think that’ll be the best time. And we can go out to lunch in Hogsmeade after—”

Ginny jumps. “No.  _ No. _ ”

Dean practically deflates, giving her that wounded stare, and she’s right—he hurts so easy.

“The...Quidditch game isn’t a good time,” Ginny says, much more gently.

“Why?” Dean murmurs. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“Merlin! Merlin,  _ no! _ ” she says, emphatically because she really, really isn’t. “It’s just my twin brothers are going to be there, and then…well, they’re coming for Ron too. And when you meet them, I don’t want it to be a quick hi and goodbye. You know? There won’t be time for lunch in Hogsmeade.”

Dean looks at her for a long moment and she prays that he accepts her excuse without realizing that it is one.

And then, he smiles, and she knows she’s won this round.

“Okay. But, don’t hold out on me too long,” Dean grins.

Ginny giggles. “Promise, I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I'm late, I'm sorry, but it's here. I need something had to give!


	16. THURSDAY, 8:23PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which, Lavender has NEWS.

Ginny curls into the overstuffed armchair by the fireplace. The common room sound levels are at a manageable level that she can do her homework, and she almost enjoys the sound of the WWN in the background, complete with the giggles of some of the younger girls. They listen to the same romance programmes that Ginny’s mum listens to, and even after five years at Hogwarts, sometimes, Ginny can get homesick. Now more than ever.

But, less so, in more recent times. She looks up from under her eyelashes at the two people that sit across from her. Her brother and Harry are supposedly doing their own work, but their eyes looked glazed as they stare at  _ A History of Magic  _ and every few minutes, Harry or Ron shoves their elbow into the other’s side, eliciting childish laughter.

“Boys—” Ginny begins, but she’s interrupted by an excited yelp as the portrait hole swings open.

“Everyone! There is news!” Lavender shrieks, skittering over, with Hermione just outside of her shadow, trailing after her, a satisfied look on her face.

“And where’ve you been?” Ron asks, looking over at Hermione. He looks honestly frazzled by the idea that Lavender Brown and Hermione hang out without him.

“She’s been helping me with my Arithmancy revision. I have a test tomorrow. It’s awful.  _ I’m  _ awful,” Lavender sighs, shaking her head.

Hermione snorts. “You’re fine. You decided to pick up a subject that you know nothing about in your sixth year. It’s commendable.”

Lavender beams at the encouragement and then shakes her head. Eagerly, she throws herself into the same armchair as Ginny, squishing her to the side. Ginny grunts and budges over. With a startling amount of grace, Hermione joins Harry, half-perched in his lap. For a moment, Ginny feels a hot flash of jealousy until she reminds herself that Harry Potter is not  _ hers _ —he can’t belong to anyone, and anyway she’s with Dean and—and he’s  _ gay _ .

“What’s the news?” Ginny asks instead to distract herself.

Lavender leans forward, her head still bobbing up and down, her flaxen curls springing around everywhere.

“ _ Well _ ,” she begins with a smile. “There is to be...a party!”

Ginny straightens in her seat, curious. “Really? Thrown by who?”

“The Ravenclaws,” Lavender squeals. “Luna told me, and when I wasn’t sure because, well... _ Luna _ , I asked Padma Patil and it was  _ confirmed _ . The Ravenclaws will be throwing a party tomorrow night.”

Harry closes his book with a decisive slam and he’s staring at Lavender like he’s intrigued but weary. He looks over at Hermione, as if to verify the truth of Lavender’s claims and Hermione nods.

“I was there. And I asked Penelope Clearwater. It’s been confirmed,” Hermione says.

“Head Girl is even going? Then, it’ll be good. No one to snitch,” Ron says with a nod.

Ginny still doesn’t understand the concept of intrahouse parties yet. She doesn’t understand how they all get away with it. She knows that it’s rare—four a semester as agreed upon by the prefects and the Head Boy and Head Girl—but she doesn’t understand how no one gets caught out by Filch or how the professors don’t  _ know _ . Except, maybe they do and maybe Dumbledore thinks it’s funny. He is a bit mad.

“And Head Boy. Tom Riddle will be there,” Lavender sighs, color rising in her face.

Ron’s eyes narrow in dismay.

“Lavender—” Harry sighs.

“Are you going to say that you don’t want to go?” Lavender demands. “You  _ have  _ to.”

“Don’t you have the Patil twins to go with?” Harry asks.

Ginny watches Lavender’s expression shut down and she turns her face away, her mouth twisting. Harry’s eyes widen and he stiffens, casting a look over at Hermione. Hermione elbows him hard and Harry leans forward, grabbing Lavender’s hand.

Lavender looks down, wide-eyed.

“So, Ravenclaw? How are we gonna guess the password? It’s always a riddle, isn’t it?” Harry asks.

Lavender beams at him, his last question all but forgotten.

“Luna can let you in, right?” Ginny asks.

Lavender shakes her head. “No. The best part is that it’s at the Shrieking Shack!”

Harry purses his lips, looking over at Ron and Hermione. The three of them look concerned now, and Ginny is so  _ jealous  _ of how they can communicate with just a single look. She presses harder into Lavender’s side.

“How do you get into the Shrieking Shack?” Ginny asks curiously.

Lavender’s excitement falters and her brow furrows. “Through the front door?” she asks, uncertainly.

Harry shakes his head. “No. There’s a better way—”

“ _ Harry _ …” Hermione warns.

“Remus doesn’t even use it anymore. Snape makes him the Wolfsbane Potion—” Harry says stubbornly.

“ _ Habibi _ ,” Hermione snaps.

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll get us into the Shrieking Shack. Don’t worry about it.”

He turns his attention very pointedly back to his textbook, but he isn’t reading.

Ginny wonders if Dean will want to go.


	17. FRIDAY, 8:26PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which, the Girls get ready.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "I may be young, but I'm ready  
To give you all my love  
I told my girls you can get it  
Don't slow it down, just let it go"
> 
> -Party, Beyoncé

“Dean…” Ginny calls for what feels like the millionth time. Dean acts as if he doesn’t hear her, staring intently down at the game of Wizard’s Chess. Ginny sighs again and reaches forward with soft hands, guiding Dean’s face towards her. “Dean, that party?”

The sun is long down and she can hear the sounds of people getting ready upstairs—fifth and sixth years eager to be allowed into the sacred party, guarded by the Ravenclaws. Seventh years are almost always guaranteed entrance, but it takes a special fifth year to be allowed in.

“Sorry...what part again, Gin?” Dean asks. He’s not even listening to her.

He hasn’t been _ listening _to her.

“The _party_ in the Shrieking Shack. We talked about it last night. Going to it,” Ginny says softly. She sighs, leaning back in her seat.

“Mate, remember that party there last year? Hufflepuffs threw it right? Who drew the longest wand for it this time? Ravenclaw?” Seamus asks.

Dean hums. “Oh...yeah, yeah.”

“It’s my first year being able to go. Come on, we said we’d go,” Ginny says.

Dean finally looks up and sighs. “I’m tired, Gin. I don’t really want to go to some stupid Ravenclaw party. They’re always the same. Drunk eggheads who try to outsmart one another through riddles and Firewhiskey.”

“Yes, but _ I _ don’t know that. I’ve never _ been _,” Ginny snaps, unable to hold her temper. Dean looks at her just a little more, sharply, like he’s surprised by her.

“You won’t like it. Promise,” Dean says. “And I’m a sixth year. I’m exhausted all—”

“Just admit that you’re backing out on me,” Ginny snaps, glaring at the trio of Neville, Seamus, and Dean. “Admit that it’s not because you’re tired, but because you’d rather hang out with your mates.”

They all look down, shaken by her harsh words. Ginny doesn’t wait for the non-apologies. She darts away from Dean’s outstretched hands and storms up the stairs towards the fifth year girls’ dormitory, her eyes narrowed. Her hands are shaking, but she throws her shoulders back and takes a deep breath, steeling herself before she shoves the doors open and goes to her trunk.

Briefly, she looks over at the other girls. Romilda sits on her bed, cross-legged, her mirror floating in front of her as she draws electric green along her lash line. The green makes the glow of her hazel eyes even more ominous, like a bog witch or a banshee. She’s wearing a tight dress, a green so dark that it looks black. She looks good. If they were still friends, Romilda would dress Ginny too.

Ginny looks away before Romilda can catch her watching. Instead, she reaches into her trunk, searching for the few tubes of makeup that she possesses, crusted with age and crumbly from its cheapness. Ginny’s mum would never approve of her having makeup, so most of the things that she owns are from Romilda’s run to Muggle stores like Tesco’s.

She pulls out a gold eyeliner, almost entirely gone, and she swallows. Biting her lip, she goes towards the mirror and stares at herself. Her face is round, long red hair tangled from being in a tight ponytail for too long, a smattering of freckles that she doesn’t know what to do with.

She hears Romilda scoff—so Ginny’s finally been noticed.

“_You’re _going to the Ravenclaw party?” Romilda asks. She looks at the two girls that had always been her followers, but never Ginny’s friends.

Ginny glares at her and turns back to the mirror by her bedside. She leans forward, slowly lining her eyes with gold, a little heavy-handed, but she doesn’t care.

“You can’t imagine that you’ll—” Romilda falls silent.

She almost never does.

Ginny straightens and looks at the door through the reflection of her mirror. She spins around and stares at the two young women. Both Hermione and Lavender look meticulous, in two very different ways. Lavender is the quintessential party girl in a tiny skirt and cleavage-baring shirt that would make Ginny’s mum pass out. Hermione is the opposite, dressed in jeans and a midnight blue blouse. They both look lovely.

“Hey?” Ginny says, uncertain.

“I like your eyeliner,” Lavender says matter of factly. Then, she strides into the room, all purpose-driven, and she looks at the mounds of clothes that Ginny has thrown on her bedspread. “But, what are you wearing?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really have party clothes,” Ginny says.

Lavender nods. “I can Transfigure something. I’m very good at that,” she says. She grins over at Hermione and Hermione rolls her eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, Lavender. I’m just very _ comfortable _in what I picked,” Hermione insists. She brushes aside some of Ginny’s clothes, and sits down on the edge of her bed, leaning back on her hand. Very pointedly, Hermione glances over her shoulder, nailing Romilda with a frigid stare, before she turns back to Ginny.

“I thought you would’ve left by now,” Ginny says under her breath. “Dean doesn’t want to go. I was going to go with him.”

Lavender stares at her, genuinely confused. “Why would we go without you? You were there when I brought it up, weren’t you?” she asks.

“Yes?” Ginny says. “I just didn’t know it was an invitation.”

“It was an invitation,” Hermione says with a lip twitch. “It always is.”

Lavender crawls across the bed, reaching out to snatch Ginny’s hand to yank her closer. She kneels up, brushing the pad of her thumb just shy of Ginny’s bottom lip. Lavender stares at her for a long time, eyes narrowing, and when Ginny’s eyes dart over to Romilda—Romilda is sitting there, dumbstruck by Lavender and Hermione’s appearance—Lavender shakes her head. She stares at her sternly.

“Lavender—” Ginny begins.

Hermione snorts, leaning back on her hands. “None of that now, habibi.”

Ginny’s eyes widen.

Lavender shakes her head and leans forward and says, softly, too kindly, “How do you feel about a gold halter?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like there's about to be a DOUBLE UPDATEEE! Stay tuned!


	18. FRIDAY, 9:48PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which, there is a party and then, that party ends.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "I’ve got to get to grips  
I don’t want to feel like this  
Your voice keeps haunting me  
I cannot eat or sleep  
I’m going crazy in this hazy fantasy  
You put a spell on me  
Aw but I ain’t going down at all
> 
> So take your hands off me  
Tonight I’m breaking free  
This is the night."
> 
> -This Is The Night, The Weird Sisters

Hermione, Lavender, and Ginny dart through the shadows in order to get to the meet up point. It’s not yet ten o’ clock, not quite curfew, but they aren’t alone in their endeavours to sneak through the corridors. Ginny catches sight of at least three Slytherin sixth years—Parkinson, Greengrass, and Bulstrode—all in tight green dresses flitting towards the Great Hall. They’ll be a bit more obvious, but as long as they get through the gate before ten, no one will question where they’re going. It’s more of how they’ll get back in, Ginny thinks.

“This way,” Hermione murmurs as she pulls them outside and across the grounds, in the opposite direction from the main gates.

“But, it’s that way!” Lavender insists.

“Shh,” Hermione hushes violently. She points up ahead and Ginny sees three figures standing by the lakeside, two taller than one, the shortest with hair like a beacon.

They approach the second half of their group.

“You’re  _ late _ ,” Ron whines, arms crossed over his chest.

Ginny rolls her eyes. Before she can respond, Hermione gets there first.

“Just because we care a little more about our appearance than you,” Hermione snipes. She had been convinced to go for a smokey eye, her hair pulled up into a slick ponytail, curls spiraling out from the crown of her head. “You look good, habibi.”

Harry smiles. “Thanks!”

Ginny swallows because he  _ does  _ look good. His dark jeans look practically painted on. His hair is  _ artfully  _ tousled, like he’d tried to make it look that way, but then, hadn’t tried at all.

He looks well-fucked.

“Luna, pull up your hood. People will see your hair from a mile away,” Ginny says, reaching forward and pulling up the hood of Luna’s cloak. Luna smiles at her, leaning forward to give her a quick peck to the cheek. Ginny flushes and turns to the group at large. “So, how do we get to the Shrieking Shack without Filch catching us?”

Lavender claps excitedly.

Harry’s lips twitch. “So...a lot of students use the passageway that leads them into Hogsmeade to get off the grounds, but it’s an  _ easy  _ way to get caught. First, they’re breaking into the cellar of Honeyduke’s, and then you have to pay the guy who works there.”

Ginny’s eyes widen. “Like a bribe? Who is he?”

“Some kid who graduated years ago,” Hermione says with a roll of her eyes. She looks personally offended by the idea of this guy. “But, Filch is catching on. It won’t be a good way of getting out of Hogwarts for long. Then, the castle will have to come up with something else. Not that we  _ should  _ be—”

“Come off it, Hermione. It’s the Shrieking Shack. It’s practically still the grounds,” Ron says, sounding more frustrated than anything. He looks over at Ginny. “You know, this is the first party that we haven’t had to drag her to. Normally, she’ll be against it, and will only go to keep Harry out of trouble after he inevitably runs off.”

Harry squawks, “Hey!”

“But, how are  _ we  _ getting into the party?” Lavender asks.

“With this,” Harry says, and he whips a soddy piece of parchment from his cloak. He presents it to the group and smiles at the distaste on Lavender’s face. He draws his wand then and mumbles, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Ginny gasps as an inkblot spreads over the front of the parchment and the ink spins into cursive words:

_ Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, _

_ Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers _

_ are proud to present _

_ THE MARAUDER’S MAP _

“Wicked,” Ginny breathes.

Ron grins. “Isn’t it? Show them the inside, Harry.”

Harry does as he’s told and flips it open. Along the inside are hundreds of little names scurrying down the halls. Most of the names that Ginny recognizes as anyone below fifth year are tucked away in the common rooms or even the dorms, but she even spots Malfoy’s name as he sneaks up the steps, brushing damningly close with Filch’s before they pass by one another.

“Malfoy’s using a Disillusionment Charm, I’m sure,” Hermione says.

“What  _ is  _ this?” Lavender breathes.

“It’s the Marauder’s Map. A map of Hogwarts that tells us where everyone is at all times. It’s how we’ve  _ never  _ been caught,” Harry says with a laugh. He grabs Ginny’s wrist, tugs her closer, and Ginny feels slightly overwhelmed. She breathes through it and looks up at Harry, and there’s something about him that’s just so lovely, in the most strictly platonic sense, that she can push away her weird forever present childish crush on him.

Ginny turns her gaze back down to the map and sees Romilda and their old friends rushing down the hall to the position of the one-eyed statue. She watches them linger there for only a second before the three of them disappear, one by one.

“This is  _ wicked _ ,” Ginny repeats, looking back up at Harry, shaking her head. “Where did you  _ find  _ this?”

“I can’t say,” Harry says with a shake of his head, zipping his mouth and throwing it away. She stares at him in confusion, and Hermione snorts.

“It’s a Muggle thing,” Hermione says, rolling her eyes. She looks over at Lavender. “How did you used to sneak out?”

“Why would I tell the prefect that?” Lavender asks, with a raised eyebrow, but she’s smiling. “The one-eyed witch, of course.”

“Well, now, you have alternatives,” Harry declares. “Since it’s in the Shrieking Shack. We’ll be going by way of the Whomping Willow.”

Luna finally seems surprised. “Why would the Whomping Willow help  _ us _ ?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asks, startled by Luna’s incredulity.

“Well, the Whomping Willow is a dryad, locked away for centuries by the Founders—” Luna begins.

Harry shakes his head at Hermione, a very pointed look in his eyes, before he turns to Luna and with a slightly awkward smile says, “Maybe tell us the story later, Luna.” He doesn’t wait for her confirmation before he continues: “We can make the Whomping Freeze if we touch a knot near the base of the trunk.”

“Okay. But, why do  _ you  _ know about this secret passageway?” Lavender asks curiously.

“This map. Family secret,” Harry stammers, as if he isn’t sure which answer to choose. Ginny almost thinks that both are the right answer. He shakes his head. “Never you mind. I’m not very good with the spellwork. It has to be very exact. Hermione?”

Hermione cracks her knuckles and nods, pulling her wand from her back pocket. Ginny follows the lead trio towards the Whomping Willow, approaching just close enough for it to start to stir, the long violent limbs crackling through the air ominously. Hermione’s eyes narrow as she waves her wand and casts a silent Levitating Charm over a stray rock. Slowly, she floats it towards the base of the tree. Another limb snaps out, trying to knock the rock astray, but Hermione whips the rock fiercely and it cracks against the knob, freezing the Whomping Willow in place.

Ginny’s eyes widen at the practiced ease.

“How often have you snuck out using the Whomping Willow?” Ginny asks.

Ron can’t hide his grin. “A time or two.”

Suddenly, Ginny realizes how much Ron holds out on her. She’ll always want in  _ now _ .

“This way,” Hermione calls, sliding across the rain-slick grass, and they proceed in a line towards the base of the trunk, Harry and Luna rounding the group out.

Lavender hooks her arm through Ron’s, and Ginny has the pleasure of seeing her brother blush. Hermione doesn’t look back, leading them forward with a single-minded sort of determination that makes Ginny think that it’s less that she wants to get into the party but more that she doesn’t want to see  _ Ron  _ slobbering all over Lavender Brown.

“Here it is,” Hermione says and she points down.

Ginny squints and slowly it comes into shape. The roots jut out of the ground in violent jags, but there, there’s a  _ hole _ , big enough for a fully grown man to slide down. Ginny flinches back.

“Are we sure it’s...safe?” Lavender asks.

Ginny steels herself. “Of course, it is,” she declares, sounding braver than she feels. She’s the first to descend, even bypassing Hermione, and she stumbles in the dark, squinting out before she pulls her wand and whispers, “ _ Lumos _ .”

The white light is joined by others as the rest light their own wands and they continue forward down the dark passageway.

“It’s just a straight shot. It’ll let us out practically on the doorstep,” Harry says. He doesn’t whisper, so his words sound louder down in the empty passageway, ricocheting violently.

“Got it,” Ginny calls and she leads on.

They travel rather quietly and Ginny’s nerves grow. It’s cold in the passageway. She absentmindedly tugs on the short hem of her skirt. When they reach the end, it’s a steady slope upwards and Hermione reaches past her to shove aside a wooden trap door that opens up into fresh air.

“Let me ahead,” Harry calls, tugging Luna up beside him until they emerge first. He laughs and nods, before looking down at them. “Come on out.”

Ginny emerges and gasps when she realizes that they really  _ have  _ made it out of the castle without anyone catching them. She looks back and through the lowline of trees, she can make out the lit shape of Hogwarts Castle, far enough that she feels freer than she has in a long while. Her laugh brightens and even Harry turns to her and smiles.

“Let’s go,” Ron calls and he tugs Lavender along, the pair of them laughing as they run up to the Shrieking Shack.

Even from where they are, just inside the fence of the Shrieking Shack, the music sounds slightly muffled, but as they creep closer, it gets louder and louder until they stand at the doors and it’s practically deafening.

Two girls stand at the door—Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe, both seventh years. They match, in black party robes, short around their knees, but cute. Edgy, almost. Cho Chang steps forward first, staring at the group of them.

“Loony—I mean, Luna, you’re free to go in,” Cho says with a nod. She slides to the side and Luna moves forward and lingers by the doorway, staring at them with wide eyes. “But, the rest of you—password.”

“Password?” Ginny asks.

Marietta Edgecombe’s lips curl like she’s just noticed Ginny. She leans over to whisper something into Cho Chang’s ear. Cho Chang snorts but doesn’t say anything yet.

“Yes, password,” Cho Chang confirms. “Riddle me this: Tear off one and scratch its head, what was red’s now black instead. What am I?”

Ginny’s brow furrows. She’s never been to the Ravenclaw common room, but she knows that you have to answer a question to get in. If you don’t get it right, you wait until someone does. It’s annoying. But, Hermione seems to jump at the chance.

“A matchstick! Right?” Hermione crows.

Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe exchange another look and laugh before nodding.

“You may enter,” Cho Chang declares, imperiously. She steps to the side and Lavender darts forward, pulling herself away from Ron the moment the door swings open. As the door opens, a swell of music and laughter erupts and Ginny feels giddiness settle in her bones.

Ginny moves to step forward but Marietta Edgecombe’s hand flashes out, grabbing her by the shoulder. 

Marietta Edgecombe smiles and says, “We don’t admit slags.”

The words are spat in her face, and Ginny tenses, her cheeks bright red. She looks down at her feet and takes a step back, hesitant to look Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe in the eye. Her shoulder collides with someone, and she looks up as Hermione, Ron, and Harry slide in front of her, a wall in front of her.

Cho straightens, eyelashes fluttering like she’s smelled something heady, as she looks to Harry.

“She’s with us,” Harry says.

“And she’s  _ not  _ a slag,” Ron snaps, voice hard.

Cho makes a soft sound in the back of her throat and slowly she nods, “Yeah, yeah. Of course. Sorry.”

Marietta Edgecombe shoots her friend a look, but they both sidestep.

Ginny keeps her head down as she’s walked inside and Ron squeezes her shoulder once, in an attempt to reassure her. While it helps, the music helps more, thumping in her veins. The poppy sound of Spellbound, an all-witch group goes through the air, and Ginny starts to roll her hips to the music, jumping up and down in excitement. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Romilda and the others, but she can’t bring herself to care.

A body crashes into hers and Ginny just barely catches Lavender.

“Isn’t it just  _ incredible _ ?” Lavender asks.

Ginny has to think for a moment. The thumping bass, the slide of bodies against each other, even the slight scent of sweat. It’s—

Ginny feels herself vibrating in her own skin. “Yes!” she shouts over the sound of the music. Lavender’s teeth are blinding in the low light.

“Come on, come on. He’s around here somewhere,” Lavender says and she drags Ginny forward, giving Ginny just enough time to latch onto Luna to pull her away with them.

Ginny isn’t sure who Lavender’s on the hunt for until she sees him. Ginny feels stupid for not realizing almost immediately.

Tom Riddle is all Lavender’s been able to speak of for the past few weeks—since Ginny really started to get to know her. He’s standing in a cluster of Death Eaters, by the wall, staring out into the crowd over the mouth of a bottle of premium Firewhiskey. The Lestrange brothers are cackling to one another, their arms tossed over the shoulders of a Hufflepuff seventh year. Rosier and Nott are passing back and forth a vial of what looks like Alihotsy Draught, sniffing the fumes and laughing.

Riddle doesn’t notice, taking a long pull from his bottle as Bellatrix leans against him, her voluptuous breasts bouncing nicely in her tiny dress. Ginny wouldn’t even call it a dress. More of a belt. But, she  _ does  _ look incredible. Ginny swallows the sourness of envy with ease.

“What are we doing? Are you going to talk to him?” Luna asks, leaning in.

Lavender looks at her, appalled. “No! We’re going to dance,” Lavender says. She begins to roll her hips with practiced ease, throwing her hands over her head, and Ginny watches the performance. 

Luna dances like she doesn’t care, all writhing limbs and windmills. Ginny finds her mood absolutely infectious.

But, Lavender easily portrays herself as slinky and relaxed, carefree without anyone watching, but she wants Riddle to  _ watch _ .

Ginny peers around Lavender’s gyrating body and sees that he is, but there’s a knowing glint to his gaze. Riddle catches Ginny’s gaze, and his lips curl into a smile that makes shivers run up Ginny’s spine.

Riddle pushes himself off the wall, interrupting Bellatrix mid-sentence. He tilts his head as he looks at Lavender and very carefully dismantles his arm from Bellatrix’s. Bellatrix stares at him like he’s just slapped her, but Riddle doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he slinks forward, like a shadow, until he’s just behind Lavender. Lavender stiffens like she senses his presence.

She stares at Ginny and Luna with wide eyes, a hopeful smile on her face. Ginny grins.

As if that were the answer, Lavender relaxes against Riddle’s body and rolls her hips in time with him before spinning around to face him, staring up at him.

Riddle smirks down at her, reaches down to grab her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles as he slowly guides her off the dance floor. He doesn’t go back to his Death Eaters, going to an emptier space. Ginny and Luna follow.

Riddle pulls out his wand and waves it, muffling the world around the group of them just a little.

“And you are?” Tom Riddle asks, his voice slow and low. He steps closer to her, and Lavender’s cheeks burn pink in the low-lighting.

She opens her mouth and then closes it again, like she’s unsure of what to say. Ginny reaches forward and pinches her side hard and she jumps.

“Lavender Brown. Sixth year. Gryffindor,” Lavender says like she’s interviewing for a job.

Riddle looks even more amused by her. He just tips Lavender’s face up and smiles down at her.

“Are you having fun, Lavender Brown?” he drawls.

“Yes…” Lavender whispers, breathily.

Bellatrix appears again, as if out of nowhere, pressing herself against Riddle’s side again. “And do you need something, little girl?” she barks.

Lavender jumps, having forgotten about Bellatrix’s presence. She glares at Bellatrix, and suddenly, Ginny is reminded that this girl is a  _ Gryffindor _ . She may be a party girl and a little childish, but she’s brave, and she doesn’t look afraid of Bellatrix at all.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I was talking to  _ you _ ,” Lavender insists.

Riddle looks even more delighted as he glances between Lavender and Bellatrix. It’s in that moment that Ginny decides that she doesn’t particularly care for Riddle. He takes pleasure in the chaos that he causes, and when he glances over at her, Ginny knows that he knows that  _ she  _ knows, and he doesn’t care. Riddle turns over to Bellatrix and leans forward, whispering something in the ear.

Bellatrix scowls but stomps away back to the other Death Eaters, and Lavender straightens, smiling up at Riddle.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever made the acquaintance of a Gryffindor,” Riddle says.

Ginny hides her snort in her hand. Lavender seems to hear it anyway, shooting her the most venomous glare before she turns back around and smiles as charmingly as she can at her target.

“I’d be pleased to make your acquaintance, Tom,” Lavender says. She breathes his name like it’s the name of a god. Riddle preens under it. He’s a smug man.

“Maybe without the audience,” Riddle whispers, ducking his head just a little and Lavender whimpers, swaying forward onto her toes until their lips are a breath apart.

Ginny can catch a clue. She steps back and looks over at Luna. She leans over to whisper, “Watch her. I’ll get us drinks.”

Luna nods, staring at Lavender and Riddle like they’re amusing magical creatures. Ginny sways away, cutting through the crush of dancing students, eyes narrowed as she searches for the bar. She finds it easily, manned by Lisa Turpin. The bar is a makeshift table that looks almost completely rotten through if it weren’t enforced by magic it seems. Three cauldrons rest on the front half of the table while on two side tables are an assortment of what look like Potions ingredients and alcohol.

“What’ll it be? One drink per person rule,” Lisa declares without even looking up from whatever she’s brewing in one of the many cauldrons.

“I don’t really…” Ginny hesitates.

Lisa looks up, with a frown. The frown softens. “Are you...you’re a fifth year, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Ginny sighs.

Lisa grins. “A little. I’ll—”

“She’ll have the unicorn blood,” an almost familiar voice says over her shoulder.

Ginny turns around and stares up at that odd smile. She can’t keep her brow creasing into a frown. Lisa nods, her lips pursed.

“Good choice for a beginner. You want one too, Blaise?” Lisa asks.

“Sure,” Zabini agrees.

“Two unicorn bloods coming up,” Lisa declares. She darts to the empty cauldron and begins to pour mixtures like she’s brewing.

Ginny can feel Zabini’s breath on her ear. “Lisa Turpin is a Potions genius. She’ll be getting her Mastery by seventh year.”

Ginny stops herself from shivering, stops herself from reacting at all, even though her skin feels tight and she feels goosepimples up her spine, alongside her freckles. “What’s in a unicorn blood drink? Sounds forbidden.”

“Elderflower liqueur, bitter root, lemon juice, the hair of a unicorn, lightly soaked, and a dash of powdered silver for the look.  _ Very  _ popular,” Zabini says. As he speaks, the cauldron in front of Lisa puffs up a white smoke and Lisa looks rather satisfied as she Conjures two plastic cups and fills them up with a ladle.

The mixed drink is thick and silver and Ginny brings it to her nose, sniffs it. It smells pleasant, but there’s a darkness there that calls to her. The first taste on her tongue is sweet and light but as she swallows, it becomes something darker and richer. She hums in delight, looks up at Zabini, her lips curling into a smile against her will.

“It’s really good,” she says before taking another gulp.

Zabini snorts. “You might want to pace yourself, Ginny Weasley. Have you ever had a drink before?”

“What’s it to you?” Ginny snaps back.

Zabini laughs like she’s made a joke. Ginny rolls her eyes and walks away. She can feel Zabini following her so she sidles up against a wall and looks into the dancing crowd, absently sipping her drink, which  _ is  _ really good, and she doesn’t understand why she’s never heard of it, never mind that she’s never really drank before besides illicit sips of stolen Firewhiskey.

“So, is that your new group?” Zabini asks.

Ginny snorts. “I’m sorry, who are you speaking of?”

“Potter, Granger, your brother. Loony Lovegood. Lavender Brown. Your group.”

Ginny scowls. “ _ Don’t  _ call her that. Her name’s Luna,” Ginny snaps.

Zabini lifts a hand in surrender and sips his drink. “Sorry about that. Luna. That’s your group, then.”

“I guess so,” Ginny says with a shrug. “We’re friends.”

Zabini nods and leans back against the wall and taps a rhythm in time with the newest Weird Sisters’ single. “You’re really defensive,” he says. “I kinda like it. It’s hot.”

Ginny hates that her heart stops.  _ Dean,  _ she thinks.  _ Dean. _

“My clear dislike of you is hot?” she asks with a wrinkle of her nose.

_ (Dean isn’t here _ .)

“It kinda is, Ginny Weasley,” Zabini says. He leans over, bumps her with his shoulder and smiles down at her, all bright and charismatic, and he knows what he’s doing, and Ginny knows that he knows and she’s being stupid about it anyway, because he’s just so  _ damn  _ pretty.

“I know I called you a stalker before, but if you really  _ are  _ stalking me, know that I have about six older brothers willing to take you down,” Ginny says with a delicate sip of her drink.

“I thought Ginny Weasley took care of business all on her own,” he teases.

Ginny snorts. “I do. Only business that matters. I let my brothers take care of the trash,” she says and she hates that she sounds more teasing than mean.

Zabini sucks in a breath and then laughs. “Oooh, you just Incendio’d me there,” Zabini says. He shakes his head. “Ginny  _ Weasley _ .”

“Why do you keep saying my whole name?” Ginny asks.

“Because you’re a ‘whole name’ kind of person. Everyone’s gonna know that name, one day,” Zabini says and he sounds sure of himself when Ginny never is.

She feels stripped bare. Ginny guzzles down her drink faster. The faster she drinks, the more of the drink there seems to be. She drinks even though she has a Quidditch match tomorrow, the first one on the team, the first one of the season. She drinks, even though the music gets louder in her ears and her face grows hotter. She drinks even as Zabini looks more and more attractive to her, his lips looking fuller.

“Careful, there,” Zabini warns again. “The cup is charmed. There’s a lot more in there than you think.” Ginny ignores his warnings. She sips it down harder and then pulls her drink away. She turns to look at him with a hard look in her eyes, Summons that Gryffindor courage that she’s inherited.

“I have a boyfriend, you know,” Ginny warns. “Your flirting is  _ futile _ .”

Zabini’s eyes soften. He leans down, their lips are breaths apart and Ginny full body  _ shivers _ . Zabini’s smile widens and he whispers, “You sure about that?”

“YOU FOUL LOATHSOME EVIL LITTLE COCKROACH!”

Hermione’s shriek cuts across the amplified sounds of the wireless. The wizard wrock cuts off almost immediately, and everyone turns to watch the brewing commotion. Ginny tugs away from Blaise, her eyes wide. She presses her hand to her mouth and suddenly, everything tastes like bile, even her own tongue. She sets her cup down on the ground, next to their feet.

“I shouldn’t have...I can’t...I have to go,” Ginny finally decides on and she spins away, leaving Blaise hanging. She looks around for any of her friends and sees only Luna, standing by the wall, next to a tall figure. If Ginny looks just past Tom Riddle, his neck bent forward, arm braced above his head, he sees familiar curls.

So, Lavender got what she wanted anyway. Ginny hates that she’s about to end it for her. But, she darts forward and tugs Lavender away from Riddle, where she’s practically trying to eat his face.

“W-what?” Lavender stammers, still watching Riddle, her lips kiss swollen.

“Come on, Lav, Luna. We’re being summoned,” Ginny mutters, jutting her chin over to where Harry is attempting to hold Hermione  _ and  _ Ron back as they point their wands at a smirking Malfoy.

“It’s not worth it,” Harry insists, his voice going higher as he fights to keep a hold of them both. Ginny darts forward and grabs her brother’s other arm, tugging him back.

He looks down at her outraged, and his face burns even more.

“Ron, you’re making a  _ scene _ —” Ginny starts.

“But, he said—” Ron begins.

Hermione tugs loose of Harry’s grip and she drops her wand only to swing her fist forward. With a crack, Malfoy’s nose spurts blood. He cries out, whimpering and falling back. Luna gasps, blinking wildly as she stares as Malfoy whinges loudly.

“She broke my nose! She broke my nose!” he shrieks, and everyone stares.

Hermione’s eyes widen and she looks over at Ginny and the others. She shakes out her hand, stumbles back, and hisses, “That felt  _ good _ .”

The room erupts in howls, children screaming for more violence, more blood. Harry shakes his head, staring between the two of them and he tugs Hermione back harshly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Ginny isn’t sure if he’s holding himself up or holding Hermione back from throwing herself into the fray again.

“Oh,  _ shit _ ,” Ron breathes, staring at Hermione in awe.

Lavender simply looks  _ horrified _ .

Harry is the first to think of an appropriate reaction. He grabs Ginny’s hand in his free hand and hisses, “ _ Run. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable quotes (you know the one, you foul, loathsome-) belongs to J.K. Rowling.


	19. SUNDAY, 11:47 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Dean doesn't know how to act, once more.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> And you got me, let go  
What you want from me? (What you want from me?)  
And I tried to buy your pretty heart, but the price too high  
Baby you got me like oh  
You love when I fall apart (fall apart)  
So you can put me together  
And throw me against the wall
> 
> Love On The Brain, Rihanna

When Ginny wakes up, she almost forgets her entire weekend.

She’s alone in the dorm, which means it’s  _ late _ , and when she shifts in her bed, she sees the remnants of gold eyeliner smeared across her pillowcase from two nights before. She squints against the light and gasps when she realizes what she’s looking at. She sits up and suddenly  _ remembers _ .

She remembers running across the grounds, under the Weeping Willow. She remembers the music and the unicorn blood. She remembers Lavender and Riddle, and the sound of The Weird Sisters. She remembers Malfoy’s blood, and the righteousness of Hermione’s rage.

She remembers Zabini.

She remembers the next day too. She remembers Quidditch, fast and furious and bloody. She remembers the Quaffle in her hand and victory pumping through her blood. She remembers the winds as deafening in her ears, so loud that she couldn’t tell the difference between the wind and the crowds. She  _ does  _ remember winning.

She remembers her parents screaming her name as she tosses the Quaffle into the left ring at the very moment that Harry swoops in with the Snitch in his fist. She remembers the team tackling her to the ground because they’d won by  _ ten points _ — _ her  _ ten points—and her brothers—Fred and George—tossing her up onto their shoulders. She remembers Ron and Lavender and Luna and Hermione’s pride.

She remembers drinking again that night, celebrating in the Gryffindor Common Room. Flashes of alcohol spilling into her mouth, down her chin, down her front, Lavender throwing her arms around her and jumping up and down with her, shrieking together.

Ginny grabs her pillow and slams it into her face, attempting to smother her smile. She stumbles from her bed, only the slightest of headaches, and wonders if this is a hangover. The thought makes her smile even wider. She goes through her routine, unable to stop smiling as she washes her face, clearing off the remaining makeup and throws on jeans and a t-shirt that she’s sure is Dean’s. Her joints ache, but in the best way.

Her good humor only increases as she bounces down the stairs and sees Dean sitting by the fire, his feet curled under him.

“Good morning,” Ginny greets, swooping down to press a kiss to Dean’s lips. He only half-kisses her back, looking up from his books with a frown on his face. Ginny smiles, falling into Dean’s lap, brushing her fingers across his jaw. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

She punctuates her words with another press of her lips and this time, she tastes Dean’s tongue on hers.

“It  _ has  _ been ages. First, you went to that party on Friday and then Quidditch,” Dean says under his breath and then, he bumps his nose against her cheek, pressing his lips to the underside of her jaw. “I missed you.”

That way he says it makes her cold, almost. It’s like he’s blaming  _ her _ for making him miss her. Ginny hadn’t even known that she was gone long enough to be missed. She frowns, but maybe—maybe he doesn’t mean it that way.

“Hmmm,” she hums, softly. “Well, the party was really fun. I wish you would’ve came. You missed Hermione punching Malfoy in the face.”

Dean huffs out a laugh that sounds only the tiniest bit forced. “Did I?”

“Yeah, she just punched him right across the face. He was whinging that she broke his nose, but I think that’s a bit of a lie. And it’s not Hermione’s fault that Malfoy’s face is so  _ punchable _ ,” Ginny insists. She leans back against him, shaking her head as she recounts the night to him. “And Lavender snogged Tom  _ Riddle _ . She looked like she’d accomplished everything she’s ever wanted to in life.”

Dean grunts his response, eyes trained on his books. He hasn’t turned the page in about three minutes. Ginny’s brow furrows.

Okay, so he  _ had  _ meant it that way.

That doesn’t make her sad, so much as piss her off.

“Okay, what’s the problem, Dean?” Ginny snaps. “I’m trying to tell you about my night and you don’t sound very interested.”

Dean whips around to look at her. He stares at her in disbelief, like  _ she’s  _ the one that’s  _ wrong _ .

“Yeah, well, you went without me.”

“And I told you that you were invited! I asked you to go with me, and then, you blew me off!” Ginny snarls back. She ignores the stares that a few third years are giving her. She’s just glad that there aren’t many people to witness this.

“Well, I thought it would be a nice night in. The two of us—”

“ _ And  _ Seamus.  _ And  _ Neville. Don’t pretend it was just going to be us, Dean. It’s beneath you, and even more, it’s beneath  _ me _ ,” Ginny hisses. “I’m not fucking stupid.”

“No one said you were!” Dean protests. He’s speaking too loud and seems to realize it himself because he bends his head towards her. “I’m just…you’ve been ditching me a lot for your new  _ friends,  _ recently.”

And she hates how he says that word: ‘friends’. Like it’s not real. Or like it means something else.

“How so?” Ginny asks, putting space between the two of them so that she can hear his piece with a clear mind. Dean looks at her like she’s crazy and she  _ hates  _ that.

“Like when we were supposed to get breakfast together. Or how I never see you around during lunch or break anymore. Or how you always study with  _ them _ —”

“First: that was one time, Dean,” Ginny interrupts, her voice sharp enough to bring Dean up short. She pushes on, ignoring the hurt on his face. “Second, didn’t Seamus say something about how I should find my own friends? I  _ did  _ that. And third, you never  _ study  _ when we’re supposed to be. You’re...you’re fooling around with Seamus or trying to  _ snog  _ me!”

“And you suddenly have an issue with snogging?” Dean scoffs.

And it’s the way he  _ says  _ it, like she’s so fucking eager for it all the time. Ginny  _ likes  _ snogging. And she likes having sex and feeling good, but Dean says it like it’s a bad thing, and it’s infuriating.

“We agreed on Sundays being for us. And I’m here. So, why are we fighting?” Ginny retorts because if she says anything else, she’ll say something she fucking  _ regrets _ .

“The day you ditched me at breakfast was a Sunday.”

Ginny takes a deep breath.

She shakes her head, exhausted already. “What do you want me to do, Dean?” she whispers. “Why does it always have to be me that makes an effort?”

“What do you mean by that?” Dean asks.

Ginny stares at him in utter disbelief.

This is what she tried  _ not  _ to remember.

“You didn’t  _ show _ . Yesterday was my first Quidditch game and you weren’t there, you fucking arse,” Ginny hisses, poking Dean in the shoulder. For a moment, she sees guilt flash across his face before he hides it again. “Explain  _ that _ .”

“I didn’t want to see you mooning after Potter,” Dean mutters.

“No one was mooning after anyone! We were playing Quidditch!” Ginny throws her hands up, utterly exasperated. “How many times do I have to tell you that there’s  _ nothing  _ happening between me and Harry? He’s my  _ friend. _ ”

“You won’t even introduce me!” Dean protests.

Ginny scoffs. “I didn’t know you needed to be introduced, seeing as you’re in the same year and all. You share a fucking dorm,” she says mockingly.

Dean is silent for a long moment.

“I didn’t miss your Quidditch match,” Dean mumbles.

Ginny laughs, hard and bitter. “Sure.”

“You scored through the left ring. You helped win the game.”

Ginny pauses.

“Then...where were you after?”

“You looked...busy. With your adoring fans. And your  _ Captain _ ,” he says, unable to help but take that little shot right there. Ginny rolls her eyes, her lips curling back over her teeth. He holds up his hands, placating. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just...it’s not your fault. I just can’t read him.”

“Who cares?” Ginny asks with a shrug.

She doesn’t understand Dean’s bullshit. Harry is  _ gay.  _ It is, in fact, common  _ knowledge. _

“I just want to know where he stands…he’s so closed off and mysterious. A lot of girls are into that,” Dean mutters. His insecurity is showing.

It’s unattractive.

“Well, when you get that I’m not  _ one of those girls _ , let me know, yeah?” Ginny snaps. She stands up and shakes her head, a little disgusted. “We’ll try this again sometime later.”

She stalks out of the common room, her head held high, because she’s not in the mood to deal with Dean’s shit. Instead, she steps through the portrait hole  _ (sans Dean’s fucking help)  _ and makes her way down the steps before she hears a soft squeak. Ginny turns to look down at the ickle little first year that looks terrified to even be in her presence.

“Ginny Weasley?” the first year girl stutters.

“And what of it?” Ginny drawls, and then realizes that she’s being a little bit of an arse to this  _ eleven-year-old _ . “Ugh, sorry. What’s up?”

She says it softly and the first year relaxes just a bit.

“Um…Harry Potter is looking for you? He’s waiting for you outside the giant portrait of the fruit bowl, right beneath the Great Hall. He wanted to know if you can join him for lunch,” the first year stammers through their words.

Ginny grins. “Thanks, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol i'm a goon again, I forgot to post, even though I HAVE AN ALARM ON. Welp, here it is, and this is PART ONE!


	20. SUNDAY, 12:03 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which a Captain and his Chaser bond even MORE!
> 
> ~*~
> 
> I should've stayed at home  
'Cause right now I see all these people that love me  
But I still feel alone  
Can't help but check my phone  
I could've made you mine  
But no, it wasn't meant to be and see, I wasn't made for you  
And you weren't made for me  
Though it seemed so easy
> 
> -Best Friend, Rex Orange County

Ginny squints against the lit torches as she walks through the corridors, searching for the painting that had been described to her twice by the little first year that had been commandeered by Harry Potter. She doesn’t have a pocket watch so she isn’t sure how close she’s cutting it, so she starts to walk faster until she turns a corridor.

She spots Harry before she sees the painting. He’s leaning back against the portrait, large sunglasses occupying most of his face, his clothing more oversized than normal. The t-shirt he wears practically hangs off his shoulder, no matter that it’s tucked into his jeans. She thinks  _ GUNS N ROSES  _ might be some sort of Muggle thing. It looks like an old t-shirt, stolen from an adult. Harry pushes off from the wall and turns towards her, smiling.

“Thanks for meeting me for breakfast,” he says.

“Is this the kitchen, then?” Ginny asks, looking at the portrait.

It’s enormous and unassuming. It’s just a still life of a bowl of fruit.

“Yes,” Harry says. He spins around and reaches for the painting, wagging his fingers and tickling over the pear. Ginny jumps and then cackles when the pear gives a little giggle and portrait swings open. Harry gives her a mischievous smile as he jumps through the portrait hole and spins around, arms held wide. “Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchens.”

Ginny emerges through the portrait hole and stares, wide-eyed. The kitchen is an enormous, spacious room with high ceilings that seem endless. At the very end of the long room is a roaring fireplace, spitting sparks merrily. There are five tables, all mirroring the ones that are directly above them in the Great Hall. There’s a bustle of house elves rushing back and forth, preparing what will be a hearty Sunday supper, for sure. Ginny smiles as almost immediately, a house elf appears at their feet.

This is an unusual house elf, though, sporting thick rubber boots and what appears to be a scarf around their neck. Ginny has never seen a house elf with  _ clothes _ .

“Harry Potter, sir! Dobby has missed you!” the house elf cries, throwing knobby arms around Harry’s shins. Harry leans over, grinning, patting the house elf on the back.

“Hello to you too, Dobby,” Harry says. He looks up at Ginny, his hazy green eyes peering at her from over the top of his sunglasses. “This is Dobby—the reason the Malfoys hate me  _ so  _ much.”

Dobby gasps, pulling back. “Harry Potter has brought his friend! Come! Sit down. Dobby will get Harry Potter and Harry Potter’s friend food,” Dobby says. As he drags them to the end of the nearest table, he still babbles on. “Harry Potter saved me, yes, miss. Harry Potter tricked my evil  _ Master _ —Lucius Malfoy—into freeing me!”

Harry snorts. “Much simpler than what happened, but sure, Dobby,” Harry agrees as he falls into his seat and he waves Ginny towards the seat across from him when she doesn’t make a move to sit down.

Ginny can’t sit down. She just stares at Harry because he is  _ nothing  _ like she had imagined—not that she was sure how she would imagine a story about defying Lucius Malfoy and stealing his house elf from him. So, she smiles, slowly.

“You are something else,” she says to him.

Harry snorts again, shaking his head. If she’s being honest, it’s a little unattractive. It just makes her like him better. She sits down across from him, folding her hands on the table. Ginny swings her feet, dragging her heels.

“Do you come to eat lunch in the kitchens often?” she asks.

Harry hums. “I eat here enough. Not often. But, sometimes...the Great Hall is a bit much. So, I eat here. I have a friend here, in Dobby.”

“Dobby the house elf that you stole from the Malfoys,” Ginny repeats to make sure that she’s right.

Harry laughs. “Dobby the house elf that I  _ freed  _ from the Malfoys. Big difference. I don’t own him. He’s paid a wage and everything. Sirius and I arranged it with Dumbledore,” he says with a shrug. He taps his fingers against the table. “It was Hermione’s idea, really. She organized this thing called SPEW and it...really doesn’t matter.”

Harry trails off, sheepish, and he shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair.

“Anyone else joining us today?” Ginny asks.

Harry shakes his head, lips curling into a smile. “No. Just us,” he declares.

They sit in silence for a little while longer, smiling at each other like idiots and Ginny can’t help but throw her head back and laugh.

“See, this is why Dean is worried,” she declares.

“Worried about what?”

“He’s jealous of you. He thinks that you’re going to steal me away,” Ginny says, waggling her eyebrows and Harry laughs at the very idea.

“Dean knows that I’m not straight. That’s mad. Sorry, Gin, but you’re not my type,” Harry says. He shakes his head at the idea, like he’s shaking away the very thought and for a moment, Ginny is a little sad at that confirmation. But, then, Harry looks up her with a bright smile and sighs. “Remind Dean of that next time.”

“I always do,” Ginny insists.

“Well, jealousy, like that...Moony would say it’s not healthy,” Harry says. He leans forward. “To tell you the truth, I thought he was. A little. That time we were studying together. He didn’t look very pleased.”

“Dean is very rarely pleased anymore,” Ginny says with a twist to her mouth. She shakes her head and drums her fingers on the table just as Dobby arrives with two plates, matching chicken and ham sandwiches and a pile of chips. “Thank you. Dobby, was it?”

Dobby’s eyes grow as wide as Quaffles. “Mr. Harry Potter’s friend says thank you? To  _ me _ ?”

“Well, of course. Thank you, Dobby,” Ginny says again because the fact that Dobby is so  _ surprised  _ grates her the wrong way. Dobby stifles a happy noise and snaps his fingers, delivering two tall glasses of iced pumpkin juice as well.

“Thanks, Dobby!” Harry calls as the house elf bobbles away. “Thank you for saying ‘thank you’.”

“He seemed so surprised,” Ginny murmurs under her breath.

“Most people don’t treat their house elves very well. Even Sirius didn’t treat Kreacher well until, well, I moved in,” Harry says. There’s a rueful twist to his mouth.

There’s a story there. Ginny knows that only Hermione and Ron probably know it. She also knows that they aren’t there yet. So, she bites her tongue.

“So the match yesterday—”

“The game we won. Because of our brand  _ new  _ Chaser,” Harry says, his smile brightening. “You were brilliant. That’s why I asked you to join me for lunch. I wanted to talk to you about how brilliant you were. And to ask how  _ you  _ feel about the match yesterday.”

Ginny bites her bottom lip, trying to swallow back at her excitement, but then, she blurts out, “Gwenog Jones was there. Luna told me she was in the box. She complimented Luna’s lion head and then…she said I was good.”

It’s what she’s wanted to tell Dean since yesterday, when she found out, but he had been nowhere to be found.

“You  _ were  _ good. Really good,” Harry insists. He leans back in his seat and swings his legs again. “Honestly, that pass you did to Demelza was  _ beautiful _ . Under leg and a spiral. I don’t have enough dexterity to be a Chaser, but you make it look  _ easy.  _ The Ravenclaws were  _ raging _ .”

Ginny grins, practically preens under the compliments. “Thanks.”

“Your broomstick does you a disservice, though.”

Ginny falters and her smile slips just a little. It turns into something a little more bitter and she shrugs. “It’s Fred’s broom.”

“I know,” Harry says softly. “It’s a good broom. It served him well. It doesn’t serve  _ you  _ well. It’s used to being a Beater’s broom. Sturdy. Dependable. Grounded, but in the air. But you’re a Chaser. Chasers need to  _ fly _ .”

Ginny tries to laugh it off, but even to her own ears, it sounds false and  _ weird _ . She lets her smile slip away entirely, looking at him with a frown.

“It’s a good broom,” she says sharply.

“Not for you,” Harry counters, quite seriously.

“Look, Harry, I know you’re my Captain—”

Harry shakes his head. “I’ve been friends with Ron since the day I stepped on the Hogwarts Express. I know about your financial situation. I’m very well aware of it. You can’t afford a new broom right now. I understand,” he says softly.

Ginny feels something hot burn in her chest and before she can curb her tongue, she snaps, “You  _ don’t  _ understand. You were raised by Sirius Black. You’re a Potter. You have  _ money _ .”

She winces, falling back in her seat and staring down at her sandwich like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Harry has money because his parents are dead. It makes her feel even worse. She stuffs more chips in her mouth, but they taste too dry and she doesn’t have any vinegar on hand so she takes a large gulp of iced pumpkin juice to wash it all down. If she can pretend hard enough, maybe, she can take back what she’s said.

“I wasn’t always in my godfather’s custody,” he whispers.

The painful sincerity in his voice makes her tear her gaze away from her chips. Harry watches her.

“What?” she mutters.

“I wasn’t always in my godfather’s custody,” Harry repeats. “I  _ understand _ .”

Ginny huffs and shrugs once, because she’s still too embarrassed to fucking  _ apologize _ .

“I can get you a better broom,” Harry says.

Ginny’s eyes widen and she reaches forward without thinking and grabs his wrist. “No,” she insists. “Do  _ not  _ buy me a broom.”

Harry’s eyes narrow. “Who said anything about _me _buying you a broom?”


	21. TUESDAY, 4:17PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Lavender makes an error and we learn a little more about Tom Riddle.

Lavender always announces herself, even in the library. She flounces in, throws herself into her chair and stares at all of them. By now, Ginny’s used to it. She barely glances up from her Potions reading. Ron practically closes his book, giving in to the urge to procrastinate and Harry follows suit. Only Luna doesn’t react, diligently working.

“Where’s Hermione?” Lavender asks in a voice that she probably thinks is a whisper but is only really a slightly quieter version of her normal speaking voice, which is already loud.

“ _ Muffliato _ ,” Harry casts, anticipating Madame Pince’s attack. “She’s meeting with someone about Ancient Runes. She’ll be here soon. Trouble in Arithmancy?”

Lavender snorts. “Always, but that’s not why I ask,” she says. Her eyes grow harder. “Last Saturday was  _ humiliating _ .”

“I thought she was rather brilliant actually. Malfoy deserved it,” Ron defends and he winces at the glare that Lavender cut his way. He leans back in his seat, waits for Lavender to expand on her thoughts on the ‘humiliation’ that occurred.

Ginny still doesn’t know what the fight was about.

“Knowing Malfoy, he probably said something either racist, sexist, or just crass. He’s heinous,” Ginny says, her voice flat.

“Not too far from it actually,” Harry mumbles.

Ron gives him a warning look. He’s careful not to look at Ginny.

“What did he say about me?” Ginny demands.

Ron winces. “Nothing—”

“He said something about  _ you _ ?” Lavender asks, her arched eyebrows travelling even higher. She shakes her head and leans forward. “Never mind that. I went to Padma and  _ begged  _ her to let me apologize to the sixth and seventh year Ravenclaw prefects. They very  _ graciously  _ accepted.”

“Probably because they know Hermione will be Head Girl next year. They’re terrified of her,” Harry remarks.

Lavender shakes her head. “Yes, well, it begs the question of whether she should be part of the Ginny Weasley Defence Squad. It was unnecessary—”

“I mean she did defend her,” Luna says without looking up. She looks over at Lavender with a strange look. “They were also—”

“They were also talking about  _ you _ .” They all turn to look at Harry. He looks furious, but as if he’s holding it all back. He gnaws on his bottom lip and then lets out a long sigh, shaking his head. “If you were going to make me choose, Lavender, I’d choose Hermione every time. So  _ don’t  _ make that ultimatum.”

Lavender falls back in her seat, eyes wide. “I, just—”

“Stop being concerned about how popular you are. It doesn’t matter. Hermione was defending you and Ginny against Malfoy because he’s a sexist bully. He’s lucky I didn’t curse him into oblivion. He’s lucky  _ she  _ didn’t curse him into oblivion. All he ended up with was a broken nose and a bruised ego that his  _ Father  _ will hear about. That’s the end of it,” Harry says. Each word is spoken deliberately, like he’s weighing them, even as he speeds up with anger towards the end. He ends in a huff and sits back in his chair, looking away.

The air is tinged awkward. Lavender’s cheeks are bright pink.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers almost immediately.

Harry gives a curt nod and looks up, glancing over Lavender’s shoulder. “Budge over. Hermione’s here,” he commands.

Lavender shoves her bag to the floor, allowing the last open seat to be filled almost immediately with Hermione. She looks rather windswept, her lips curling into a satisfied smile.

“How are you?” Lavender asks, her voice squeaking.

“Great. Just got back an Ancient Runes cipher that I handed in a week ago. Got an Outstanding,” Hermione says with a smile. She looks around the group and her smile dims ever so slightly. The space between her brows crease. “What are you lot talking about?”

“Riddle,” Lavender blurts out. “ _ Tom  _ Riddle.”

Ron rolls his eyes and averts his gaze, his hands curling into fists.

“What about Tom Riddle?” Hermione asks.

“I snogged him,” Lavender says with a happy grin. “At the party. I walked in and I danced and he saw me and we  _ snogged  _ until we had to leave. And I think...well, he said…oh, I snogged Tom  _ Riddle _ , the most attractive boy at Hogwarts.”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Yeah, he’s attractive. But, he’s a big smug, isn’t he? You should’ve seen him. He just got up behind Lavender, pulled her away—”

“Did he get your consent?” Hermione asks, alarmed.

“Yes,” Lavender snaps. “I said yes. I  _ wanted  _ to snog him. Who  _ wouldn’t  _ want to snog him?”

“I wouldn’t.”

They turn to Harry who looks at Lavender with a twist of his lips.

“And why not?” Lavender challenges, haughtily. “Tom Riddle is the Heir of Slytherin. He is a  _ gentleman _ .”

She says it like she won’t take any other option as an answer. Reverence and worship for Tom Riddle  _ only _ . No other reactions to him need to apply.

“Is he?” Harry asks, nose wrinkling. He looks over at Hermione and her lips twitch.

Lavender scoffs, shaking her head. “You don’t know anything  _ about  _ him. He’s sensitive and—”

“I’ve known Riddle since my very first day. On the train. I know everything that I’ve ever possibly needed to know about the golden boy,” Harry says with a dry smile. He looks over at Hermione and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe Lavender’s words. “Maybe that’s why you aren’t doing so well in Defence, Lav. You keep  _ staring  _ at him.”

“I can’t help it if I’m hot for  _ teacher _ ,” Lavender says with a giggly shrug.

Ginny snorts. “Is he the teacher’s assistant?”

“Yes. Hasn’t done much assisting yet except for giving me Exceed Expectations on essays that  _ clearly  _ deserve Os,” Hermione snaps, sounding far more put out than she needs to be about an EE versus an O. She shakes her head and leans forward. “I don’t understand him. He’s practically good at everything.”

“You’re just jealous that he’s better at Defence than you are. I can’t imagine how you’d be if he were in our year, in  _ direct  _ competition,” Ron teases. Hermione glares at him hard enough until he redirects his stare back down to his work.

“Well, I’m…” Lavender begins. “We’re hanging out on Friday.”

Ron’s jaw practically falls off.

Ginny looks up, wide-eyed. “What do you mean you’re hanging out? When did you even speak to him?”

“At breakfast on Sunday,” Lavender says, her cheeks flushing rosy. “I came down for breakfast and only  _ Luna  _ was there, mind you. He came over and asked if I wanted to spend time with him on Friday night in the Head students’ suite. Penelope Clearwater is off being interviewed for a position at the Ministry so she’ll be gone  _ all  _ weekend.”

She giggles and does a funny little hop in her chair. Ginny’s brow creases. Riddle’s handsome, but that smarmy edge to him, the shadow in his smirk, still haunts her. He had looked at Lavender like she was something to conquer. Lavender was a conquest, nothing more, and she didn’t seem to realize it.

“Lavender, are you sure?” she asks before she can stop herself.

Lavender frowns at Ginny. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...if you’re hanging out all weekend, he’ll probably want to have...you know, sex.”

Ron glares at her. “Why do you know what sex is?” Ron asks.

Ginny scoffs. “You’re absurd, Ron,” she snaps and turns back to Lavender. “I’m just—”

“Tell me—” Ron begins again.

“If you aren’t going to be helpful,  _ leave _ ,” Ginny says forcefully. She glares at her brother through narrowed eyes. “I’m about to tell her all about sexual  _ intercourse _ , which I’ve had, you big bloody virgin, so if you’re going to be annoying, you’ll see yourself out.”

Ron’s cheeks are bright red by the time she’s done, and he’s already packing his bags, looking over at Harry and Hermione for help. But, they’re both still staring at Lavender, like she’s an accident waiting to happen. Ron storms out, ducking his head down. Ginny turns back to Lavender, a stern look on her face.

Lavender squirms, uncomfortable. “What?”

“She’s right. You’re hanging out with him to…” Hermione trails off and even she seems to be a little embarrassed before she steels herself and nods. “Have you ever…”

“No,” Lavender mutters. She looks up and then throws her shoulders back, looking more confident than just a second before. “But, why wouldn’t I want my first time to be with Tom Riddle? He’s  _ everything _ . If I said no, it’d be like saying no to Lorcan D’Eath.”

“Lorcan D’Eath is a half-vampire, isn’t he?” Luna interjects. “Why would you have sex with him when he’s Rufus Scrimgeour’s maker.”

Hermione falters. “Luna...what?”

“Rufus Scrimgeour is a—” Luna begins.

“Not now, Luna,” Ginny insists. She reaches across the table and grabs Lavender’s wrist, squeezing reassuringly. “Okay, but how much do you know about him?”

Lavender opens her mouth and then shuts it again. She bites her bottom lip. “I know it’s, like, rare for girls to orgasm. The first time they have sex, I mean. But I’ve heard he makes sure that  _ all  _ of his partners cum. Girls and boys.”

Harry hums and snorts into his hand. He ignores Lavender’s savage glare.

“Well, then, since you’ve known him since your first day, you tell me what he’s like,” Lavender snaps.

Harry looks up, put out. Hermione stares at him, pointedly.

“Was he glad to make your acquaintance?” Harry asks flatly.

Lavender’s eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. “Why would—”

“He has a lot of acquaintances, Lavender. He picks an acquaintance—boy or girl—from each House in an effort for ‘inter-house friendships’. He’s not going to date you, if that’s what you’re looking for, Lavender,” Harry says firmly.

Ginny falters because even she hasn’t heard about all of  _ that _ . Maybe that’s another thing that’s kept to the knowledge of the upper-years only, like the parties. It would make sense if it were.

“If he has that many partners, how do we know that he’s being safe?” Hermione asks.

Lavender looks even more confused. “He doesn’t have bastard—”

“That’s not what I meant. Magical sexually transmitted infections exist, Lavender. You have to use a condom and birth control is  _ important _ ,” Hermione insists. She seems to find some resolve and stares at Lavender. “Are you really going to do this?”

“I want to,” Lavender insists.

“Then, I’ll put together some materials for you by Thursday. You’ll be hanging out with him on Friday?” Hermione asks. She’s already scribbling down the self-assigned assignment in her day planner and she misses the grateful look on Lavender’s face. She hums to herself, nodding. “I’m sure there’ll be some resources here. The lack of sexual education at Hogwarts is rather deplorable, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Lavender breathes.

Luna looks over at her. “Do you want us to be with you before you go over?” she asks, and it just proves that though she says little, she knows exactly when to speak up.

Lavender almost collapses and nods. “Yes, please.”

Harry leans back in his chair and his lips quirk into a smile as he says, “I might know a place.”


	22. WEDNESDAY, 12:03PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny gets a 'T for Troll' and a cheering up.

The  _ T  _ for  _ Troll  _ at the top of Ginny’s History of Magic essay mocks her. She snarls to herself because Binns is a ghost. How could he possibly grade her when he can’t even pick up a fucking quill? Instead of looking at the red ink that marks the margins, she shoves it into the bottom of her satchel and leans back in her seat, staring balefully ahead.

Binns is giving the range of grades and drones on something about preparing for OWLs before he dismisses them.

Ginny is the first one to flee from the hateful class.

She storms out of the room, ignoring the titters and stares of her classmates as stalks down the corridor. It’s not worth it, she tells herself. She just needs to get to lunch.

“—ey. Ginny, hey, what’s going on?”

Ginny spins, her lips already curling into a snarl, until she lets it fall. Hermione stares at her with wide eyes, her books clutched to her chest. Her Gryffindor prefect badge gleams on her chest, like she spends an inordinately long time polishing it at least twice a week. It’s a very Hermione-thing to do and for one tiny second, Ginny rejoices in the fact that she  _ knows  _ it’s a very Hermione-thing to do.

“Hey,” Ginny says, breathlessly. “It was...it was nothing. I’m just being overdramatic.”

Almost against her will, she drops her hand to her satchel and squeezes tight through the thin leather, right where she knows her fucking  _ T- _ for-Troll essay is.

Hermione looks at her like she doesn’t believe her. Ginny’s never been the best liar.

“You look like a dragon. Come here,” Hermione instructs, bossy, and she takes Ginny’s hand and guides her to the side, so that they aren’t blocking anyone’s way.

Ginny can’t help but look past her at her other classmates. She thanks every god that Romilda didn’t seem to be in class today, and then she wonders why.

“It’s fine,” Ginny insists.

“Have you had lunch?” Hermione asks. She waits for Ginny to shake her head and then loops her arm in Ginny’s, turning her towards the Great Hall. “Let’s get lunch. You and me.”

“And the others?” Ginny asks.

Hermione shrugs. “If they’re there. Ron is working on a Potions essay that’s due after lunch. Harry is off gallivanting with Moony. And I’m not sure where Lavender and Luna are. Maybe we’ll see them,” she says. She shakes her head. “But that doesn’t matter.”

Ginny isn’t sure why it doesn’t matter. Hermione should want to get lunch with her friends. Ginny used to eat lunch with Romilda and their friends every single day, without fail.

“So, we never got a chance to talk about Friday night. The party. Did you have fun?” Hermione asks. She sounds stiff and awkward, like she’s attempting Lavender’s hand at girl talk, but she’s not used to it, being around boys all of the time.

Ginny’s lips twitch.

“Yeah, it was fun,” she says. “ _ You  _ seemed to be having fun too. Almost cursing Draco Malfoy and all.”

Hermione snorts. “Yes, instead, he got a fist to the face,” Hermione sighs. She shakes her head. “I’m rather embarrassed, if I’m being honest.”

Ginny looks up at her, wide-eyed. “Why? It was wicked and he deserved it.”

“Maybe. But, I’m a prefect. There are better ways to handle things like that other than violence and Harry...Harry really,  _ really  _ hates violence,” Hermione murmurs, her voice trailing off. She shakes her head, lost in thought until Ginny touches her wrist lightly. Hermione jumps and she smiles again over at Ginny. “I apologized to the Ravenclaws and Harry afterwards.”

“Not to Malfoy?” Ginny teases.

“Why would I?” Hermione scoffs. “He deserved it.”

The two girls laugh and Ginny feels light, almost light enough to forget all about the world. They talk about the party—gossiping to one another about the things they saw and heard. They talk about Romilda Vane hooking up with Colin Creevey. They talk about Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe getting detention for slipping back into the castle too late and being caught by Mrs. Norris. Ginny is relieved when Hermione seems as apprehensive as she is about Tom Riddle and Lavender.

“It just doesn’t feel right,” Hermione says to herself.

Ginny shrugs. “It’s her decision though, isn’t it?” Ginny says. “There’s nothing wrong with casual sex.”

“Of course not,” Hermione agrees. “As long as she knows it’s casual.”

Ginny hums. She cuts a side eye towards Hermione. “Have you ever…”

Ginny can’t tell if Hermione’s blushing under her brown skin, but she can smell her embarrassment. It makes Ginny smile just a little because Hermione usually seems so put together.

“No, I haven’t. Haven’t even kissed anyone,” Hermione admits. She shakes her head. “I don’t have time for it, anyway.”

“You’ve never wanted to be in love?” Ginny asks.

Hermione laughs as they enter the Great Hall and find seats across from one another towards the end. She looks over at the Slytherin table and Ginny looks too. She sees the Death Eaters, but there’s no Tom Riddle in sight.

“Is that what we’re calling Lavender? Is she ‘in love’? She doesn’t even know him,” Hermione says.

“Maybe it’s…the idea of him. It’s a nice idea,” Ginny confirms. “Mysterious. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Genius. It’s a really,  _ really  _ nice idea. But, that’s not what I mean.”

“Have you been in love?” Hermione asks.

“Yes,” Ginny says.

_ (I’m not sure,  _ is what she means.)

“Dean’s lucky then,” Hermione says, folding her hands in front of her. She smiles over at Ginny for a long time before she goes to make her plate and Ginny startles into movement, joining her as she picks at the roast and potatoes. “So…you were upset. When I saw you earlier. What was that about?”

Ginny hesitates for a long moment. She stares down at her food, and shovels a few bites in, but they all taste like sawdust. She sighs as she pulls her satchel into her lap and pulls out the crumpled ball of parchment before handing it over to Hermione.

“That,” she says, mustering up all of her disdain.

Hermione quirks an eyebrow before she takes the parchment from Ginny’s hand and carefully unfolds it, smoothing it out like it’s worth a lot more than it is. She looks it over and then stares at Ginny. Ginny can’t take her eyes off her plate.

“Are there makeup opportunities?” Hermione asks.

Ginny shrugs. “I didn’t ask. I just got out of there.”

“You should ask him,” Hermione decides.

Ginny scoffs, shaking her head, arms folded over her chest. “No. Binns is the  _ worst _ . He’ll just drone on and on at me without ever answering the question.”

“Are you sure about that?” Hermione asks. She sighs, shaking her head. “Nevermind that. Even if there isn’t a way to rewrite it, you’ll do better on the next essay. I’ll help you. I’ll teach you my outline method and a better way to pull information from the text without just repeating it.”

“Is that the problem, then?” Ginny asks.

Hermione laughs to herself and shakes her head. “When was this due?” she asks.

Ginny purses her lips. “Friday.”

“So, just before the party and the first Quidditch match of the season?” Hermione says. She’s not really looking for an answer, just confirming it to herself. She sighs. “You were distracted. It’s your OWL year and you have a lot happening. But, I promise I’ll help. Ron and Harry were horrid too.”

“Are they doing better?” Ginny asks.

Hermione hums to herself. “Barely scraping by with As, but I’m sure that you have a better work ethic than either one of them.”

“Harry has a good work ethic,” Ginny says. She isn’t sure why she feels the need to defend him, but she can’t help it. Hermione doesn’t seem to catch on, though.

“About things that matter to him. Like Quidditch and Defence against the Dark Arts. But, History of Magic? Not so much,” Hermione says. She is already plucking a fresh quill from her bag, scribbling notes in the margins in a much softer blue ink that the red scrawl all over the parchment. “This is a good start. At least, you have a really good idea, but it’s not fully developed. And then—”

“When’s the next study session? I don’t want to take up your time…” Ginny says, her voice wavering. Hermione looks up from the parchment and frowns. Ginny rushes on. “Especially if I can’t rewrite the thing. It doesn’t matter, you have more important things, I’m sure.”

Hermione smiles, soft and wide. “We’re friends, habibi. I don’t  _ have  _ to help you, but I want you.”

_ Habibi _ , she calls her.

Ginny remembers what that means. Hermione is starting to like her best.


	23. FRIDAY, 7:00PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we get sexual health education.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> All the gold and the guns in the world (couldn't get you off)  
All the gold and the guns and the girls (couldn't get you off)  
All the boys, all the choices in the world
> 
> -Gold Guns Girls, Metric

Ginny is sweaty. Practice was hard that day, with Harry practically drilling them for a surprise Quidditch practice on a Friday instead of Saturday—something about a disproportionate amount of them having to revise for exams so it made sense to move practice. But, she doesn’t understand why Harry had to act like their Auror sergeant. She’ll be aching for days.

Harry doesn’t seem to feel it as he paces back and forth in front of the long stretch of wall, even though he should feel it the most out of all of them. He had executed a Wronski Feint, in his search for the Snitch and had pulled out just a little too late, sending him tumbling off his broom and rolling through the sandpit.

He’d caught the Snitch, though.

“So, what are we doing again—” Lavender begins, unimpressed.

“Hush,” Hermione commands and Lavender pouts.

Harry’s lips quirk into a small smile. “I need my secret place. I need my secret place. I need my secret place.”

He chants this over and over again, and just like _ magic_, a door melts into existence, appearing from nothing and Ginny stares, wide-eyed, at _ another _Hogwarts secret.

Ginny gapes as Harry leads them into the room, his arms wide as he welcomes them into the room that just _ appeared _ before them. It’s lovely, with the walls lined with old glass mirrors and in the center are about two dozen plush floor pillows and throws that look cozy. Against the far wall is a fireplace, the flames roaring, and on the opposite wall is a piano. Harry laughs at the wonder on their faces, and Ginny turns to look at Hermione, but she’s smirking as if they’ve known about this for a long time.

Harry clears his throat.“Well, Ginny, Lavender, and Luna. This...is the Room of Requirement.”

“It’s _ incredible_,” Lavender breathes. She flounces forward and throws herself down, giggling as she sinks into the velveteen. “This is amazing, Harry. How did you know about this place?”

“I come here when I want to be alone. Dobby the house-elf showed me,” Harry says. He doesn’t answer the question of _why_ in Lavender’s eyes, instead sitting down next to Lavender and then closing his eyes tight.

Ginny gasps in delight when a bottle of elderflower wine appears before them along with five glasses. She, Luna, and Hermione join the other two in the pillows until they’re in a circle of five.

“Where’s Ron?” Luna asks.

Hermione scoffs. “Detention with Flitwick. He set someone’s eyebrows on fire. On _ purpose _.”

“Whatever for?” Lavender asks.

“Probably making fun of me,” Ginny mutters under her breath.

Luna hums to herself. “Maybe he was saving him from the nargles,” she says, attempting to sound reassuring. She takes one of Ginny’s hands, cradles them in her own and pats her knuckles gently as if to say _ there, there_.

It makes Ginny laugh.

“Luna, never change,” Ginny pleads with her.

Luna huffs out a befuddled giggle. “Why would I?”

Ginny tosses her bag to the side and looks over at Lavender, her lips curling into a slow smile. Harry pours Lavender’s wine first and Lavender downs it in one sip, like it’s a shot. She holds her glass out for more wine and Harry pours generously before he passes glasses to the rest of them, serving up wine to them as well.

“Have you been able to go through the materials I put together for you?” Hermione asks, staring at Lavender very seriously.

Lavender flushes and she squirms. “I mean...yes…but...condoms?”

“You _ have _to use condoms, Lavender,” Hermione says firmly. She searches through her bag and when she draws it out she has a fist full of tinfoil wrappers, all brightly colored and she tosses them into the center, drawing a squeal out of Lavender. Hermione looks unamused. “They’re practical because you’ll avoid clean up and they’ll protect you from any infections.”

“Can’t you just use a spell for that?” Ginny asks.

Hermione looks appalled. “Don’t you and Dean use condoms?” Hermione asks.

Ginny shrugs. “He doesn’t like how they feel,” she says.

Harry snorts. He’s laying back in the pillows, Luna curled into his side, staring up at the ceiling.

“That sounds like something a guy would say,” Harry mutters under his breath. He shakes his head and gives Ginny a very pointed look, barely lifting his head. “Take some condoms, kid. Use it.”

Ginny bites back the urge to snap at the use of ‘kid’, like she’s much younger than Harry, but she doesn’t. There’s something that lurks in his eyes that makes her _ feel _like a kid, especially concerning the subject matter.

“I’m a little nervous,” Lavender admits, taking the fist full of condoms from Hermione and stuffing them into her bag, out of sight and out of mind. She pauses on the last. “Dragon bladder condom?”

“That’s a magical condom. Madame Pomfrey gave it to me. It’s supposed to make it feel…different?” Hermione asks with a shrug.

“You asked Madame Pomfrey for condoms?” Lavender blurts out, sitting up fully. “Why would you do _ that _?”

“That’s what she’s there for!” Hermione cries.

Lavender shakes her head, her cheeks bright blooming pink. “I don’t think I could _ ever_. And now I’m even _ more _nervous.”

Ginny sighs, lips twitching into a smile. “My first time was nice. It was with Dean. Just us in the brush, outside of the Burrow.”

“How much did it hurt?” Lavender asks anxiously. She leans forward, offering her arm. “Pinch me the amount it hurt.”

Ginny frowns and then she reaches forward, pinching a bit of the flesh on Lavender’s arm. She doesn’t even squeeze as hard as she should when Lavender jumps, letting out a yipping akin to a dog. She glares at Ginny, her cheeks flushed.

“That _ hurt _,” she accuses.

“Sorry!” Ginny says, throwing up her hands in surrender. “It’s a little unpleasant when it starts.”

Luna hums. “It doesn’t have to be. You just have to be wet,” she says. She’s waving her wand through the air, drawing shapes and sending off little magical creatures into the air to play. She points at one, drawing Harry’s attention. “That’s what I imagine a Crumple-Horned Snorkack looks like.”

It looks like a blob to Ginny. Ginny’s too polite to say otherwise.

“Penetrative sex is different for everyone,” Harry finally says. “The more relaxed and the more lube used, the less it hurts. He just needs to get you ready.”

Lavender’s nose scrunches. “Isn’t that just for, like, gay sex?”

Harry raises an eyebrow at that, letting out a soft huff of disbelief. Ginny squirms, uncomfortable with Lavender’s words though she can’t quite put a name to why. She shakes her head.

“Anyone can have anal sex, Lavender,” Hermione snaps. Lavender looks at her with wide eyes. “It’s not about gay or straight. It’s about penetrative, non-penetrative, digital, oral. Those are all different types of sex.”

Lavender looks at her, wide-eyed. Ginny feels a little overwhelmed at the aggressive categorizing. She squirms, biting her bottom lip, wondering if there are things that she doesn’t know about. She and Dean have had sex. They _ still _have sex, when they can find the time, but there are so many different kinds and Ginny doesn’t know they all have names.

“How would you know? You said you’ve never had sex,” Lavender says, looking at Hermione.

“I read,” Hermione retorts, just as fast. “Harry’s right. Lube will help. Some women also provide a natural lubricant.”

Harry’s nose wrinkles. “I’m still a boy, you know. I don’t want to hear about fanny—”

“Harry, shut up, if you’re not going to add anything helpful,” Hermione says with a smile. She leans forward and grabs Lavender’s hand, not unkindly. “Just make sure that you’re wet.”

Lavender’s eyes widen and she squirms, pressing her thighs together, like the idea makes her feel off. “What do you mean wet? How do I get wet?”

Harry sits up suddenly, and Luna slinks off his shoulder, staring at them with wide eyes.

“What turns you on?” Harry asks intensely. He’s staring at Lavender with those too-green eyes, and even Lavender shifts like she’s caught in his hypnosis.

“I…I don’t know. Nothing,” Lavender stutters.

“You’ve never thought about it?” Luna asks.

Lavender turns on her and snaps, “Have you?”

“Yes,” Luna answers simply. “I don’t need a fantasy, though. I just masturbate and imagine it’s someone else’s hands.”

Ginny raises an eyebrow as _ both _Hermione and Lavender jump.

“Neither of you masturbate?” she asks.

Hermione huffs, shaking her head. “I don’t have the _ time _.”

“You should make time. It’s excellent,” Ginny advises.

Lavender groans and snaps up a pillow, just to scream her frustration into velvet and goose feather. She looks up, annoyed. “How do two fifth years know more about this than I do?”

“People go at different paces. It’s not a competition,” Harry says.

“Isn’t it? Tom has been with _ so _many people,” Lavender says firmly, shaking her head. “I don’t want to—”

“What he wants is important but, Lavender, you have to be confident. Come on now, lay down,” Harry commands, gently pressing Lavender to lay on her back. Lavender sighs and lays down and only mildly squawks when Harry goes to cover her eyes. “Now, just imagine you’re in bed with Riddle.”

“Okay…” Lavender says hesitantly.

Harry hums and looks across the circle, casting a meaningful look at Hermione. Hermione looks amused. Ginny is proud that she can nearly parse the looks that they exchange now.

“Now, imagine. Tell us what he’s doing to you,” Harry commands.

“Okay. We’re in my room,” Lavender breathes, letting out a shaky breath. “Not my room at Hogwarts, but…_ my _ room. At home. There are wide windows. It’s summer. There’s a warm breeze carrying through. And I’m wearing…white robes. Not from Madame Malkin’s, but the ones _ I _ made. And my makeup is…impeccable. Nothing on my eyes but mascara, a pink lip…”

Ginny grins over at Luna. Luna is leaning forward, curious and curiouser.

“And?” Harry prompts softly.

Lavender shoots up like she’s been hexed and then she beams. “This…this actually _ works _.”

“You were turned on by what you were wearing?” Luna asks with wide eyes. “What was Tom Riddle doing?”

Lavender’s brow creases.

“Oh…oh, right. I don’t know—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry says promptly. “People get turned on by different things. So, when you’re with Riddle, just think about whatever turns you on and you’ll be fine.”

They sit with that, let that marinate. Ginny hums and thinks about what turns her on. Dean touching her does, but she doesn’t think she’s ever cum with Dean. Maybe once. He’s never gone down on her, at least. She desperately wants it in that moment, wonders if she can ask him for that.

“Do you think he’s back yet? It’s late,” Lavender murmurs.

Luna hums and pushes into Harry’s side. “We could check the Marauder’s Map?”

“_ Excellent _ idea,” Hermione compliments. She reaches into Harry’s bag, whips out the old faded parchment and presses the tip of her wand to the page. “ _ I solemnly swear that I am up to no good _.”

The Marauder’s Map introduces itself, but Hermione is already whipping the map into its full size, taking a long sip from her wine as she peruses the map. She’s the only one of them that is of age. It’s weird that she isn’t lecturing them about drinking, but Ginny supposes that Hermione isn’t as uptight as Ron makes her seem, especially in private.

“There he is. He’s in the Heads’ suite,” Luna says.

Lavender lets out a shaky breath and smiles, nodding. “And Penelope Clearwater _ isn’t_,” she murmurs. “So…I guess I should go, right?”

“If you want to. You don’t have to. And you can say no at any time. Even if you’ve previously said yes,” Hermione emphasizes again. Lavender rolls her eyes at Hermione and looks over at Harry, like he’s the end-all-be-all.

“Will you walk with me? All of you?” she asks.

“Merlin, Lavender, you’re not going to the stake,” Ginny sighs with a roll of her eyes.

Lavender glares at her too. “I just need a little moral support!” she protests.

“Of course we’ll go with you. And it’s on the way to the tower. Give the map here, Hermione,” Harry says. He presses the tip of the wand to the map and says, “Mischief managed.”

As they pack up, Ginny looks over at the piano again, and wonders why it appeared if it’s Harry’s happy place. She doesn’t think to ask, not in front of everyone else. Instead, she packs her things, helps Luna to her feet, and follows Harry’s lead as he loops one arm through Lavender’s and one arm through Hermione’s, leading them out of the Room of Requirement.

They walk together, passing by the few students that still linger around the halls as curfew approaches, and they get a few looks, but less than what Ginny gets when she’s alone, and for a moment, she feels powerful. When they walk down the next set of stairs, heading towards the long stretch of corridors at the epicenter of the castle—where some of the faculty suites are, they slow down.

“It’s here. He told me it was next to the portrait of the python,” Lavender says. She points to the next corridor. “I don’t want him to think I need an entourage for this. Can you just…wait until he lets me in?”

Ginny very carefully doesn’t say that Lavender _ did _need an entourage to be brave enough to go fuck Riddle. She doesn’t think it’ll be appreciated.

“We’ll do whatever you need us to do,” Hermione says firmly, stuck fast in her loyalty. She ushers them around the corner as Lavender stands in front of the portrait and takes a deep breath.

Ginny watches Lavender paste a smile on her face and step forward, raising her small fist to knock. Before she can even do so, the portrait swings open and Riddle leans against the frame. Ginny’s mouth goes dry for a moment because she’s forgotten how _ attractive _ Riddle is. He’s still in dress pants and a button down, but his tie is gone and his shirt is unbuttoned enough to show off his collarbone, and he is _ tall _ and _ dark _ and _ handsome _and—

“Lavender Brown,” Riddle drawls.

“Hi, Tom,” Lavender says breathily.

Riddle’s lips curl into a smirk. “I look forward to furthering our acquaintance and…getting to know one another better. Come in,” he says, waving her in.

Lavender flounces forward and then she hesitates, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. Riddle tolerates it, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

And then, he looks up, directly at them with bright, burgundy eyes.


	24. MONDAY, 8:17 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny is unpleasantly surprised.

Ginny bounds down the dorm steps with the intent and purpose of throwing her arms around Dean in greeting, but he’s not there to catch her when she gets there.

No, this morning, all she gets is Seamus who looks confused about what to do with her enthusiasm.

She lets it drain away so it’s not something she has to deal with.

“Morning,” Seamus says.

“Hey,” Ginny says with a smile. She wants to ask about where Dean is, but then, she thinks Seamus will make a snide remark about her keeping tabs on him  _ (which isn’t what she’s doing at all, it’s just...they never made up after Sunday, not truly).  _ “Breakfast, then?”

Seamus looks impressed that Ginny hasn’t asked and he nods. He doesn’t hold the portrait hole open for her or anything. He actually cuts in front of her, rudely, but they walk in companionable silence about half of the way until Seamus turns to look at her.

“How are things between the two of you? Dean and you?” Seamus asks. “Better?”

Ginny carefully doesn’t still. She intellectually knows that Dean  _ must  _ talk to Seamus about their relationship, even if Ginny doesn’t talk to anyone about it. But, she isn’t prepared to be confronted with someone with this kind of knowledge.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Ginny says softly, nodding. She shifts her bag to her other shoulder and looks over at him. “You heard otherwise?”

“No, no!” Seamus says, raising his hands in surrender. He’s got a dry little smile on his face, like he knows something that she doesn’t. “Just checking. Making sure. You’re a cool bird, Weasley.”

Ginny snorts. “Thanks.”

“No, I really mean it,” Seamus insists with a shrug. He hums, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know that we didn’t really…we didn’t get along very well. At first. But, I like you much better than Millie.”

Ginny honestly hides her smile behind her hair, turning away as they descend the stairs, falling into the sea of Ravenclaw students that are also coming down from the opposite staircase. They’re swept away with it, in the middle of morning chatter. Ginny looks over at Seamus again.

“Well, I try,” Ginny drawls.

“Millie was so…I don’t know. Fussy about everything. Always wanted Dean’s attention just for her. But, you’re cool with hanging out with us, and when you know it’s bro time, you give us our time,” Seamus says.

Ginny wonders if Dean would ever hang out with her and her friends, but she thinks back to what he thinks of Harry. No, he’d probably hate hanging out with her friends. They’re a little weird and eclectic, and probably a little too honest. And the longer that Ginny hangs out with them, the more she understands how someone could think they were mysterious. It wasn’t that they were mysterious at all: they were close-knit. It wasn’t about exclusivity, but it could be read that way.

Dean would probably feel excluded.

No need to subject him to something like that.

“Yes, well, you were right about finding my own friends and all.”

Seamus flushes, rightfully so. “I never said I was sorry about that.”

That seems the closest he can come to an apology.

“Whatever, Seamus,” Ginny says with a roll of her eyes.

Seamus nods eagerly. “See, you’re so cool. And you don’t get jealous. You don’t even mind Dean talking to Millie again.”

That stops Ginny short, though she doesn’t stop walking into the Great Hall with him.

This is confirmation; Dean  _ is  _ still talking to fucking Romilda.

She can’t process.

So, she won’t.

“Yup,” Ginny says with a dry smile, and she ignores the impressed side eye that Seamus gives her as she throws herself onto the Gryffindor bench and begins to pile her plate high with salty bacon because she can already feel her headache mounting. She begins to shovel food into her mouth.

Seamus goes on and on about his NEWT classes.

Ginny nods at the right spots as she tries her very best not to think about Dean and Romilda

_ (Is he with her now? Is he with her when Ginny isn’t there? What do they talk about? What do they have to talk about? Doeshetoucherdoeshewantherdoeshemissherdoeshelove—) _

“What’s that?” Seamus asks, his gaze directed upward.

The morning owls are in, swooping through the open windows and Ginny isn’t expecting mail today, except something whistles through the air and lands right in front of her, knocking food off of both her plate and Seamus’ plate.

Ginny stares wide-eyed.

The shape is a familiar one.

It’s a package, long and cylindrical, wrapped with parchment paper and twine. She can see the jagged edges and smell the wax.

She knows what it is.

Fucking  _ Harry. _


	25. MONDAY, 11:05AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny gets an explanation (and some more Harry backstory) for her new broom.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Baby, be the class clown, I'll be the beauty queen in tears  
It's a new art form, showing people how little we care (Yeah)  
We're so happy, even when we're smilin' out of fear  
Let's go down to the tennis court and talk it up like "yeah" (Yeah)
> 
> Tennis Court, Lorde

She corners him during the break, clutching her new broom underneath her arm. Harry’s sitting in an alcove with Hermione and Ron, but Lavender and Luna are nowhere to be seen—probably off being weird together. Ginny pushes them to the side in her brain and points.

“Potter!” she barks, aggressively. The trio look up from whatever they were gossiping about “What is  _ this _ ?”

Ron gapes at the broomstick and he reaches out, snatching it away without a second thought.

“This…this is…” he breathes.

“A Nimbus 2001,” Ginny finishes for him. She glares at Harry, and she’s practically boiling, furious despite the fact that she had said  _ not  _ to do this. “I told you not to buy me a broom!”

Ron chokes on air. He spins to face his best friend, staring at him in outrage.

“You bought Ginny a broom?” he demands.

Harry looks at her with his brow furrowed before he looks at the Nimbus 2001, balanced across Ron’s palms. Then, he looks at Ginny again.

“Ginny, I know. I didn’t buy you that broom,” he insists. “And people are  _ looking _ —”

“I don’t care!” Ginny snarls.

She puts her hands on her hips, stares down at them even though all three probably tower over her. She feels  _ angrier  _ than she has in a long time, and she isn’t sure if it’s the humiliation of the fact that her brother’s friend— _ her friend— _ had to buy her broom because hers can’t perform and her parents can’t afford a new one or the fact that Romilda Vane still has the energy to spit her name to everyone that’s listening.

“Honestly, Ginny, I don’t think Harry bought the broom,” Hermione contributes,  _ unhelpfully _ .

“Really? Then, why did we have a conversation last week about my broom needing replacing, hm?” Ginny asks. She shakes her head and snatches the broom from Ron’s greedy hands and thrusts it out to Harry to collect. “Well, I hope you’ve kept the receipt. You need to return this.”

“I didn’t buy the broom, Ginny. If I had bought a broom, it wouldn’t be a broom from 1992, no offense,” Harry says with a small smile.

“Oh, really? What would you have bought then?” she snaps.

Harry laughs and retorts, “I would’ve bought you a Firebolt.”

It just makes her angrier.

“Maybe my family’s financial situation is a  _ joke  _ to you, Potter, but—” she accuses.

Now, Harry sheds all semblance of humor and he stands up, quickly enough that she almost bites her tongue in surprise. He stares at her, quite serious.

“Your family…none of you are a joke to me. Don’t say that,” Harry says softly.

“Then,  _ why  _ would you buy this?” Ginny asks and her voice cracks on the last word and she hates it.

Harry waves her over and looks back over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione. “We’ll be back. Take a walk with me, Gin?”

Ginny scoffs and shakes her head. “Why? You don’t want everyone to know—”

“Ginny,” Harry says, his voice just a little harder. “This is about Quidditch. As your Captain, I’d like to speak to you alone, please.”

His voice wavers, like he’s  _ still  _ not sure of his authority, not really, but Harry cares about Quidditch so he infuses confidence in his stance. Ginny snarls and stalks after him, ignoring everyone’s stares as she follows him out of the courtyard and to one of the less populated corridors. Harry turns on her the moment they’re alone, and he stares at her with hard eyes.

But, he doesn’t speak.

“Nothing else to say then?” Ginny bites out. It just lights the fire again. “I  _ told  _ you that I didn’t want this. And you did it anyway. I’m  _ proud  _ of my brother’s broom.”

“No one said you shouldn’t be. And I told you that I didn’t buy it. I don’t know why that’s so hard to understand,” Harry sighs and he sounds exasperated with her. And then, he looks  _ almost  _ guilty, like something has just occurred to him. “I might…have mentioned it to Professor McGonagall.”

Ginny huffs. It’s a little less of a problem than Harry writing to fucking Sirius Black about his sad charity case of a Chaser. At least McGonagall is aware of the situation. She has to be. She’s friends with Ginny’s mum and dad.

“Why would you  _ do  _ that, Harry?” Ginny sighs, slowly deflating. “I’m not… _ ashamed _ . My parents work hard. But, it’s no one’s business. And I said that I didn’t want a new broomstick.”

Harry swallows hard, like he’s struggling with something. He isn’t as confident as he was before and he shuffles his feet lightly. He leans forward and tugs her closer until there’s less space between them and less of a chance of them being overheard. He bends his head closer to her, and for a silly stupid moment, Ginny thinks he might kiss her but she reminds herself that he doesn’t  _ want  _ her, and she doesn’t  _ want  _ him.

“When I got here…Ginny, I became Seeker my first year,” Harry says stiffly. He looks away from her eyes, maybe at an errant strand at the part of her hair or her freckled forehead. “I…didn’t have Sirius, then. I had him, but I didn’t  _ have  _ him.”

“What does that have to do with the current situation?” Ginny snaps.

Harry huffs out a laugh, at her impatience. “When Sirius was exonerated, his money was still tied up. Gringotts was being weird about it all, because they weren’t sure if he had been disinherited or not. He was on the family tree, but not in their records, but…anyway, I didn’t have money for a broomstick. I didn’t have money for much of anything.”

“What about the Muggles you lived with?” Ginny asks with a raised eyebrow.

Harry laugh again. It’s a lot sadder this time.

“They didn’t…they didn’t like magic very much.”

Magic sounds like ‘ _ me’ _ .

“So…McGonagall bought you your first broom?” Ginny whispers.

Harry nods slowly. “She bought my first broom with Hogwarts money. It was the single best thing that had ever happened to me besides hearing that…Sirius and Remus wanted to adopt me. It was my first…gift,” he says, forces out like it hurts to hear out loud.

Ginny swallows because the very implication of that is staggering and terrifying and Ginny doesn’t think she’s equipped to deal with that. So, she doesn’t say anything. Harry looks relieved that she doesn’t. He shakes his hands, like he’s washing his hands clean of it all.

“So, don’t…fight this,” Harry insists. His lips quirk into a slow smile. “After all, McGonagall wants us to  _ win _ .”

Ginny slowly nods along. “Okay.  _ Okay. _ ”

Harry beams and he nods back at her. “Okay. Great. Now, let’s go make Ron mad with jealousy over your new  _ broom _ .”


	26. TUESDAY, 11:04AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the Ginny Weasley Defence Squad gossips and is invited to a party.

It’s a little chilly for an early October mid-afternoon, but it’s their break and Ginny wants to take advantage of the little time that they’ll have where she doesn’t have to double the layers of her robes and wear a cloak on top of that. She lounges back in the grass, her head resting against the low stonewall surrounding the courtyard. Ginny’s head is bracketed by Lavender’s knees as the girl braids her hair.

Lavender’s talking with Ron about something that happened in Care of Magical Creatures and Ron is staring at her like she’s hung the moon. Ginny tunes it out, staring out across the courtyard. Romilda is gathered with her tight circle, including the Creeveys. Colin has his arm around her shoulder and she’s waving her hands, talking at all of them.

Nearby, Dean, Seamus, and Neville are hanging out. Ginny stares at her boyfriend, wills him to look her way. He practically refuses. Ginny makes a sound of displeasure in the back of her throat. She ignores Harry’s side eye.

“Okay, so we’re all together. Are you finally going to tell us about Riddle?” Ginny asks, looking up at Lavender upside down. Then, she holds up her hand. “Wait. Is this gossip we want spreading?”

“Nope,” Hermione answers for her. She waves her wand, calmly casting, “_Muffliato_.”

There’s a light buzzing in Ginny’s ear again and she pats her ear before it falls to the back of her mind and sits up straighter.

“Are we really going to gossip?” Ron whinges.

“Feel free to leave,” Ginny says dismissively. She reaches up to squeeze Lavender’s thigh. “Now, how was it?”

Lavender flushes and then lets out a little giggle, jumping up and down.

“I think he wants something with me. It was…well, I just spent the night and then he had a house elf bring _ breakfast_,” Lavender begins and then she falls into more giggles, muffling them in her hand, shaking her head. “Well, first, we talked. In front of the fire. We talked for a really long time, and he’s _ so _ smart and _ deep_. He has so many _ ideas_!”

“About?” Luna prompts.

“About the wizarding world and all the change he wants to affect,” Lavender sighs, shaking her head in pleasure.

“Change? He hangs out with purebloods. He’s practically Cygnus Black’s ward. All they want is for things to stay the same,” Hermione says derisively. Lavender glares at her.

“Yes, but he’s a _ halfblood_. He wants more equality,” Lavender snaps.

Hermione scoffs, “Did he say that?”

“But, that’s not important,” Lavender continues, as if she hadn’t heard Hermione speak at all. “He thinks I’m really special. And I _ orgasmed _.”

Ron starts to pay attention after that, sitting up straighter as he looks over at Lavender, wide-eyed and red with jealousy. Ginny rolls her eyes at her brother, but can’t help the sympathetic look that she casts Hermione. Hermione looks _ uncomfortable _with the whole situation.

“And how was it?” Luna asks. “Did you get all hot and stiff and lose time?”

Ron shifts, making a sound in the back of his throat. Ginny kicks her brother hard in the thigh because she _ doesn’t _want to see him get horny from this conversation.

“Also, he was just…_ so _ good. He went down on me. And his dick is _ huge_,” Lavender sighs.

Harry snorts, like he doesn’t believe it, and Lavender glares at him.

Shrugging, Harry says, “Sorry. That just sounds uncomfortable.”

“No, it was _ amazing_,” Lavender says.

“You can’t go around talking about his dick size,” Ron squawks.

Lavender frowns. “And why not?”

Sputtering, Ron protests, “Well, you don’t _ know _that he’s big. You haven’t seen any other…you know.”

“You just said it,” Ginny drawls. “You can’t say it again?”

“Ugh, shut _ up_, Gin,” Ron snaps.

Lavender rolls her eyes at the two of them and tugs gently on the end of one of Ginny’s pigtails.

“It hurt, but only a little. Not as much as you said it would, Ginny,” Lavender says.

Ron’s eyes bug out and he leans forward. “What the fuck? Have you and Dean—”

“It’s none of your business, Ron,” Ginny snaps and she pulls her wand and pokes his collarbone with a warning. “And if you say another word, I’ll hex you so bad, I’ll put you in the Hospital Wing.”

Ron just glares at her.

“Did you use a condom, at least?” Hermione asks.

Lavender bites her bottom lip. “Well…he said that just the spell was fine. And I didn’t…well, I didn’t mind.”

Harry rolls his eyes and looks over at Ron who is still red. Ron huffs.

“Mate, how can you…put up with this _ girl _talk?” Ron asks.

“You mean, sex talk?” Harry asks, unimpressed. “Mate, my guardian is Sirius Black, who is unabashedly open. Any shame that I might have about this subject is long gone.”

“You really shouldn’t talk about him like that, though,” Hermione lectures. “What you two shared is private and you can talk about your experience, but you shouldn’t describe his body—”

“Well, I’m sure he’s talked to his friends about it. Sorry for being for feminism or whatever,” Lavender sneers. Hermione grinds her teeth, shaking her head.

“Fine. Whatever, Lavender. _ Continue_,” she snarls between her clenched teeth.

“I think he really likes me,” Lavender is saying as the Death Eaters finally deign to grace the courtyard with their presence. She sits up straighter when she sees Riddle walking through, his hands tucked in his pockets, Bellatrix at his side, the faithful and obsessive lieutenant.

“Well, there he is,” Harry hums, looking rather unimpressed. He waves his wand, ending the _ Muffliato _charm.

The Death Eaters make their way towards the large crooked tree in the corner that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle have occupied. Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson are with them, but they look more reserved, Parkinson looking almost ill. _ Zabini _is with them too. He’s been watching her. Ginny knows that. She’s not stupid to look back, not with Seamus and Dean and Neville in the opposite corner.

“Hi, Tom,” Lavender chirps as Riddle walks by.

He doesn’t even look at her, his head bent low as Bellatrix whispers something in his ear. Riddle smirks and throws an arm around Bellatrix’s shoulders, drawing her in tight, and she looks vindicated. Lavender sags into herself, her smile slipping, and Luna bites her bottom lip and grabs Lavender’s right hand just as Ginny can’t help but snatch Lavender’s left. They squeeze, but Lavender doesn’t say anything.

“Fucking arse,” Ron mutters under his breath.

They watch as the Death Eaters approach the tree and Malfoy and his little baby group scramble almost immediately. Only Zabini takes his time, leisurely jumping down from the tree. He exchanges a few words with Riddle and Riddle looks _ almost _impressed by him until he nods his dismissal. Zabini swaggers away, so full of himself.

Zabini pauses by them and looks right at Ginny. “Hey,” he says with a nod.

“What’s up, stalker?” Ginny drawls, leaning back against the stone. She ignores the sharp looks that she gets from everyone else, because if she doesn’t make it a big deal, they shouldn’t make it a big deal _ either_. Those are the rules.

Zabini smirks at her. “Are you coming to the party in Hogsmeade this Friday? The Lestranges have rented a flat there,” Zabini says, waggling his eyebrows like that’s supposed to encourage her.

Lavender sits up, a determined glint in her eyes. “Is it all Slytherins?”

Just as Lavender speaks, Hermione mutters, “Having illicit parties at the Shrieking Shack is different from going _ into _Hogsmeade.”

Zabini looks surprised that Ginny is surrounded by other people. He shakes his head and addresses Lavender head on.

“Not all Slytherins, but it’s being thrown by the Death Eaters. Riddle just said I could invite anyone I wanted,” Zabini says with a shrug. “So are you going?”

Ginny bites her bottom lip and looks under her eyelashes over at Dean. He isn’t paying attention _ again_. He doesn’t seem to ever notice anything anymore. He doesn’t notice when she’s upset or when she’s sad. He doesn’t seem to notice anything except his secret rendezvous with his ex-fucking girlfriend.

“We’ll be going,” Lavender answers for her, prim and proper and stiff.

Zabini flashes Ginny a grin. “Good. Talk to you later.”

“Later, stalker,” Ginny calls after him.

Ginny looks at Dean again. He’s still looking away.


	27. WEDNESDAY, 7:54 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny mourns.
> 
> ~*~

Dean twists the ends of her hairs, experimenting with braids. Ginny loves it when he plays with her hair. She loves it when anyone plays with her hair. It makes something in her brain go silent, and she wonders what that means, except she doesn’t think it means anything. She sighs into it, the words of her Potions textbook sliding together. She smiles into the crook of her arm and turns her head towards Dean, tugging the end of her ponytail out of his grip.

He smiles back at her.

“You’re not studying,” she murmurs gently.

Dean laughs softly. “How could I, when you’re right here?”

Ginny’s lips twitch into a wider smile. She bites her bottom lip. “Did you hear the Puddlemere United game on the wireless?” she asks.

Dean’s eyes widen and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “_ No _, don’t remind me. Seamus wanted to go to Hogsmeade. But, I heard the highlights,” Dean mutters. “Almost crashing into the Keeper.”

“It was mad,” Ginny laughs, shaking her head.

Dean’s eyes soften. “That’ll be you, one day. Almost crashing into the Keeper.”

Ginny’s smile brightens just a little bit more.

“Well, hopefully not _ crashing into the Keeper _. I’ll take just winning.”

“Of course, Gin,” Dean says with a smile.

And he smiles at her like there’s nothing wrong. There shouldn’t be anything wrong. She fancies him so much that sometimes, her heart feels too big for her chest. And Dean fancies her. Except, she’s not sure anymore because she’s seen him, she’s seen the way he looks at Millie—with concern, with worry, with _ care _ —and Seamus knows things. Seamus knows so _ much _.

“You know, I really fancy you,” Dean says.

Ginny is the _ cool girl _. She can’t—

“I guess I fancy you too,” she says with a shrug, except she’s trying not to smile. Dean leans in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheekbone and Ginny leans into it, her eyes closing slowly. She gathers her courage because she’s a Gryffindor and she’s fucking _ Ginny Weasley _ , she wants to fly for a fucking _ living _. “Do you still fancy Romilda?”

Dean freezes next to her. She misses him the moment he pulls away, and slowly, she turns to look at him.

“Ginny, no,” Dean says, bewildered.

“You, uh, sure about that?” she asks back, just as fast. “I get it, if you do. We got together—”

“No, Ginny,” Dean insists, vehemently shaking his head. “I _ really _don’t have feelings for Romilda anymore.”

Ginny swallows, because that can’t be true. Seamus _ knows _things. And she wants to be the cool girl, so bad, but she can’t stop the dull pit in the middle of her that’s screaming that Dean couldn’t have possibly given up an actual ‘cool girl’ like Romilda for—Ginny.

“People have been seeing you together. Talking. And they think you’re going to get back together—”

“She was giving me back my shite, Ginny,” Dean insists. He reaches for her hand and she lets him take it, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.

“I see you lying! Why are you lying to me?” her voice cracks at the end of her demand, and Ginny hates herself for it. She hates Dean for making her feel so _ emotional _ and _ useless _in the face of his words. She can’t trust her own voice, let alone him.

Dean stares at her like she’s mad. He makes her feel like she’s going _ mad _. “I broke up with Millie for a reason.”

“You still call her ‘Millie’,” Ginny says.

Dean opens his mouth and then closes it again. “I…we dated for a couple months, Gin.”

“And she was my best friend for _ years _.”

Ginny jerks back at the savagery in her voice. The viciousness that lurks under each word is out in the open, biting and accusing and _ hurting _ . Romilda was her best friend was years and it was gone. All fucking _ gone _.

And that’s no one’s fault except—

Ginny takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should just trust you, yeah?”

“Please do,” Dean says softly. “I would never lie to you.”

He pulls her into a hug and she hugs him back, hard, trying so damn hard to fucking believe him.


	28. FRIDAY, 10:37PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny makes a mistake.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> We could've been  
And we try to pretend  
Every now and again  
We don't dream about, don't think about what  
We could've been  
Though I'm holding it in  
'Cause I know in the end  
You dream about, I think about what  
We could've been  
We could've been (Yeah)  
We could've (Damn)
> 
> Could've Been, H.E.R. ft. Bryson Tiller

Slowly, Ginny thinks she’s starting to get used to going to parties. She’s used to the ritual of getting ready—this time, she did so with Luna and Hermione and Lavender in Hermione and Lavender’s dormitory. She’s used to the primping and preening and the overwhelmingly sweet smell of Lavender’s Sleakeazy. She’s used to the laughter now, and she loves it. She’s never really laughed before, she finds. She had always been self-conscious of the sweet, girlish giggles—so different from the brashness she performs, and even sometimes feels. But, she laughs with these girls.

Ginny’s even more used to the taste of unicorn blood cocktails and the thumping music. Slytherins listen to different music than the Ravenclaws, she finds. Where the poppy sounds of the girl group,  _ Spellbound _ , dominated before, Slytherins favor bands like the Weird Sisters, a strange Irish punk band called Leprechaun’s Gold, and The Howlers.  _ Do The Hippogriff  _ blasts through the flat and there’s less dancing and more mingling than before.

She almost likes it, but she has to socialize and  _ Romilda  _ is there, though this seems to be a more exclusive crowd than the Ravenclaw party.

Ginny thinks it’s because it’s a Death Eater party.

“This is cool, isn’t it?” Lavender asks in her ear.

Ginny looks over at Lavender and tries not to grimace. Lavender is bobbing her head, like she’s trying to enjoy the music, but it’s clear from the slight wrinkle of her nose that she hates it. They stand by the wall, sipping their drinks while Harry and Luna dance to the Weird Sisters and Ron and Hermione fetch more drinks.

“Yeah, it is. This is Harry’s favorite band, I think,” Ginny says because she doesn’t know what else to say. “I think it might be my favorite too.”

“It’s…something,” Lavender says slowly. “I don’t really listen to rock.”

Luna is moving her fictional wings—her arms—wildly, and bobbing her head like she’s trying to be a hippogriff. Daphne Greengrass and her crew give Luna and Harry a wide berth, casting them mocking stares, but neither seems to give a fuck. Harry just grins and mimics Luna, eager to have fun. He seems looser. He drinks less than them, but he’s definitely had a drink or two.

“That’s cool. You’re more of a Spellbound fan, right?” Ginny asks.

Lavender perks up and nods. “And Celestina Warbeck!”

Ginny fights the urge to grimace. Her mother is  _ obsessed  _ with Celestina Warbeck. It strikes her, fast and suddenly, that Lavender is a romantic.

“She’s cool,” Ginny lies. She sips her drink to hide her grimace. She looks around the crowd and tells herself that she’s not searching for Zabini. Instead, she sees Dean finally walk in and she flashes him a smile. Dean waves and smiles at her and makes a pointing signal.

He’s going to say hello to people. It’s good. Ginny nods and points down to where she is and gives a thumbs up. Dean grins at her and blows a kiss. Ginny blows a kiss back. She feels eyes on her and she turns to Lavender.

“What?” she demands when she sees Lavender’s half-smile.

“You’re just…so cute. I didn’t think you two were like that,” she says. Lavender leans forward. “I hope Tom and I can be like that one day.”

Ginny feels a knot form in the pit of her belly. She swallows. “Have you…spoken to him?”

“No,” Lavender admits. “But, he’ll be here. Of course, he will. He’s Tom Riddle.”

Ginny nods and the pair scan the crowd, looking for the tallest guy at the party—other than Ron. Ginny bites her bottom lip when she thinks she sees him. Riddle’s leaning against the wall, whispering in his closest confidante’s ear again. He looks bored again. He  _ doesn’t  _ look like he’s looking for anyone tonight. Bellatrix nods at whatever he’s saying and then she wiggles her eyebrows up at him and leans up to peck his jaw. Riddle looks like he snorts at something she says and shoves her lightly against the wall.

Ginny knows that move. She swiftly pushes off the opposite wall and slides neatly in front of Lavender, obscuring her view.

“What?” Lavender asks in surprise.

“You’re done with your drink. Do you want another?” Ginny asks.

Lavender beams at the offer. “Sure. Hex on the Beach, please?”

“Got it,” Ginny says, taking Lavender’s empty cup and heading towards the  _ real  _ bar by the side of the front room. It’s quieter. This is a ritzy flat for Hogsmeade, but that doesn’t surprise Ginny. It was rented by the Lestranges and they’re a  _ wealthy  _ pureblood family.

Bigots, mostly, too, so Ginny doesn’t feel too bad about trading wealth for some moral fiber. She doesn’t know about the Lestrange brothers—their leader is a halfblood, of course. But, he’s also the Heir of Slytherin. He probably gets a pass.

She’s at the bar and speaks her order without thinking and then, she feels someone’s presence next to her.

Ginny looks.

Romilda is staring at her with dark eyes. This is the closest they’ve been in months. Ginny is terrified.

“Hey,” Romilda drawls.

“Romilda,” Ginny whispers back.

Romilda barks out a laugh and she leans back, tapping on the bar. “We’re not going to do this,” Romilda says and that sparks irritation in Ginny.

“Really, because that’s what we’ve been doing since we got back. You’ve been  _ tormenting  _ me,” Ginny snarls.

This time, Romilda does really laugh—in sheer disbelief. “You think this is torment? Girl, you don’t know much, do you? Of course, there’s lots you don’t know.”

And Romilda looks at her sideways,  _ daring  _ her to ask.

“Romilda, just…” and Ginny feels weak when she talks to this girl, it’s nothing like how strong she feels, when she’s up in the sky, “are you still hanging out with Dean?”

Romilda lets out a slow sigh and pushes back her curls. She smiles up at Ginny for a long moment, like she pities her, and if Ginny could, she would knock the smile clear off of her smug fucking face. Except, Ginny feels small inside when Romilda looks at her like that. She feels like Romilda’s little bitch, all over again.

“I’m not hanging out with him,” Romilda says and Ginny feels relief crash over her. “I’m  _ fucking  _ him.”

Ginny shudders and takes a step back. Her cheek burns, like she’s been slapped.

“What?” Ginny rasps.

Romilda shrugs. “Guess he’s just not as loyal as you thought he was,” Romilda sighs. She leans forward to pat Ginny’s hand. “My sloppy seconds don’t taste as good as you thought they would, did they?”

“Fuck you,” Ginny whispers weakly.

Romilda’s false pleasure turns into something full of rage and, just beneath that, a well of hurt so deep that Ginny feels it in the soft bits beneath the cage of ribs that holds her throat, her tight stomach, her beating heart—organs all bunched up.

“No, Ginevra Weasley,” Romilda breathes. “Fuck  _ you _ .”

Romila flounces off, like she hasn’t just rocked Ginny’s whole world. Ginny tries to take another deep breath, but it catches in her throat, and the entire room is entirely too hot, entirely packed with too many bodies. She stumbles through the crowd, shoving past everyone, even stumbles past Riddle where he’s now letting Bellatrix kiss his neck as she whispers in his ear.

Ginny strong arms past a random Hufflepuff and finds herself in a deserted hallway. Two doors at the end, perpendicular to one another. She throws open the first door and finds herself in a bathroom, porcelain and rather clean. She slams the door shut behind her, doesn’t dare to cast a single spell, not when she’s at Hogsmeade. She collapses against the door and screams in her hands, because she knows no one will hear her over the music.

She’s trying to breathe, but the air won’t  _ go _ . She can’t  _ breathe. _

She

Can’t

** _ B R E A—_ **

“Ginny? Ginny, let me in.”

His voice cuts through her hyperventilation and the thrumming sound of guitars and bagpipes through the door. She wonders if she should let him in, but she feels so alone, and her belly feels hollow, and she wants to see someone else made of soft stuff and blood. Ginny crawls across the tile floor and reaches up to unlock the door.

Zabini throws the door open and then shuts it again, almost immediately. He falls back against the wooden door and then slides down it to sit in front of her, dragging his knees up to his chest as he stares at her like she might shatter.

“Hey, I saw you practically throw Zacharias Smith. Are you okay?” Zabini asks softly.

Ginny shakes her head. She’s trembling. She can’t stop shaking. “No…” she whispers. “No, I’m not okay.”

She shimmies back until her back is pressed against the tub. Zabini can’t take a hint. He reaches up, locks the door behind him and crawls forward, reaching out to her. She flinches from his hand and he lets it drop between them, as if it weren’t an awkward thing to do.

“Dean is here, isn’t he? I thought I saw him looking for you,” Zabini says.

Ginny steels herself so she won’t flinch. Ginny steels herself because a single wince will make her shatter and she won’t cry in front of Blaise Zabini.

“I don’t want to talk to him, stalker,” Ginny says softly.

“But, he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?” Zabini asks.

Ginny snarls, “Doesn’t mean that I want to talk to him.”

Zabini holds up his hands in surrender. While his mouth is twisted in amusement, there’s something about his eyes that feel sincere. He’s always felt some sort of sincere when he talks to her, not that they’ve talked very often. And Merlin, she’s not sure if it’s cocktails or the strange clinical lighting of the bathroom, but Blaise Zabini is  _ handsome _ .

“So, he’s your boyfriend, still,” Zabini muses softly, tilting his head back.

Ginny scoffs. “And what of it?”

“It’s just…a shame,” Zabini says and he scoots closer, grabbing her hands. He cradles them like they’re something precious. When she looks down and then up at him, he smiles. “Can’t squeeze too tight. These are Chaser hands.”

Ginny snuffles out a laugh even though she doesn’t want to.

“He…you know he dated Romilda. I’ve seen them…together. Hiding away and whispering together. And Romilda, she just…she said…Dean  _ promised _ ,” Ginny says, her voice cracking.

Zabini’s gaze hardens. He’s like a righteous knight, from those Muggle stories.

“Well, fuck him,” Zabini snaps. Ginny’s eyes widen. “If he makes such a strong girl cry, well, fuck him.”

“What does it matter if I’m strong?” Ginny asks softly. Zabini has leaned closer and she leans closer too, until they’re breathing the same air, their noses brushing together.

And then, she kisses him.

Ginny sits up on her knees, never pulling away from him as she tastes him on her tongue. He tastes delicate and sweet, like a finely spun Sugar Quill. She wants to devour him, so she does. She tastes his mouth, his teeth, his tongue, presses her fingers into his hair, mussing it up. He grips at her hips as she kisses him long and hard, never giving up. When she pulls back to breathe, Ginny nudges her nose against his.

He’s staring at her with wide eyes.

She wants to  _ devour  _ him.

She wants to stop  _ feeling _ hurt and angry and cut open. She wants. She wants. She  _ wants. _

But, she shouldn’t.

Their lips are just barely brushing and she shudders.

“I—” she begins.

Then, the door opens with a heavy thud. Ginny throws herself back against the porcelain sink hard enough that she cracks her skull against the cool ceramic. She curses under her breath and looks up. Her lungs deflate and she stares up at her brother. He stares back at her.

Ron doesn’t speak. He’s ashen.

Ginny launches herself up and grabs his wrist and drags him out of the bathroom. She doesn’t look back at the boy she leaves on the floor. Ginny shoves Ron to the side, stands on her toes to get into his face.

“Swear you won’t tell anyone what you saw,” Ginny hisses.

Ron squawks. “What? B-but what about—”

“Swear it, Ron!” Ginny snaps, pressing her knuckles into his chest.

Ron falls silent. The longer he looks at her, the more Ginny can tell that he can see past her anger. He can see how  _ terrified  _ and  _ sad _ she is, and it only makes her feel more awful.

“I swear,” Ron whispers.

Ginny tears away from him, spinning through the crowd. She runs past Lavender, who stands against the wall, watching Bellatrix and Riddle. She runs past Harry and Hermione who are deep in conversation. Romilda is watching her. Ginny throws herself out of the flat and runs down the steps until she stands outside of the short building and she slides around to the side, where there aren’t too many students, before she begins to break down.

She falls against the wall and throws her arm over her eyes, and takes a deep, shuddering breath to steady herself. Ginny feels his familiar hands, smells his smell, and she shakes her head, hiccuping again.

“No, Dean. Go away,” she whispers.

She won’t look at him.

He presses his lips to the crown of her head. “Where else would I be?” he murmurs.

And Ginny’s sick. She’s sick with guilt, with anger, with jealousy, with  _ too-much-everything _ . Her stomach churns and she wants to spit bile and unicorn blood, but she can’t. She won’t. She looks up at him, and his soft eyes and his kind smile makes her weak and  _ sick _ .

“Romilda, Dean,” she says, softly.

Dean looks at her, wide-eyed and soft. “What about Millie?”

“That. You still call her  _ that _ . After what…do you hear what she calls me? What everyone  _ calls  _ me?” Ginny whispers, her voice cracking. She’s shaking apart in his arms, and the words are howling in the shell of her ear. “The things they call me. The things they  _ say _ . Do you hear it? Or do you pretend…”

She can’t finish the question because she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to stomach the answer.

“Nothing is going on with Romilda and me,” Dean says, firmly. “She’s going through a hard time with her family. They’re Muggles. My mum is a Muggle too. I get her in ways that you wouldn’t be able to. That’s why we worked. But, we’re nothing more than that. We just talk sometimes.”

Ginny shakes because she’s got very little in common with Dean besides loving him. She loves Quidditch and competition and adventure. She’s a pureblood, raised in magic, and it’s still so new to him. Romilda has a past with him. Romilda and Dean have a  _ world  _ that they share.

“I just want to go home,” she says. She slips out of his arms, staggering out of the alleyway.

Ginny ignores Ron where he hovers in the entrance to the building. She walks past him, only startles slightly when he throws an arm around her shoulders.

They walk to the Honeydukes cellar together.


	29. MONDAY, 6:43 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Lavender still thinks she and Tom Riddle have a chance?
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Your heart is hard to carry after dark  
You're to blame for what we could have been  
'Cause look at what we are  
Your friends are scared to tell you you're in too far
> 
> Teenage Fever, Drake

“He has a lot of acquaintances. You said so,” Lavender’s saying. “And we shouldn’t try to change people. My mum says that all the time.”

Ginny tries to redirect her pitying look away, but she catches Hermione’s eyes. Hermione purses her lips and nods at her, like she can read Ginny’s thoughts. Ginny looks back down at her plate of food, because she can feel the weight of Ron’s gaze on her too. She would rather not look either of them in the eye, because Hermione will see pity and Ron will see _ guilt_.

Harry seems to be listening to Lavender, though. He’s not stupid. He’ll talk her out of her fantasy.

“And also,” Lavender continues, “just because he snogged Bellatrix doesn’t mean our thing wasn’t special, right? They’re just _ very _close!”

Ron snorts, finally tearing his stare away from Ginny. “Hermione and I are very close, but you don’t see us snogging everywhere.”

Hermione stiffens at the very thought. Ginny watches her, waits for more, but Hermione is very carefully not looking _ anywhere _at Ron.

“Well, Tom Riddle is _ different_,” Lavender snaps. She turns to look at Luna with wide eyes, grabbing her hand. Luna’s soup spoon hovers near her mouth and Luna leans forward to slurp it up even as Lavender shakes her gently. “What do _ you _think, Luna?”

“You said it was good, yes? And you feel a connection?” Luna asks.

“Yes, of course. See, Luna agrees with me!” Lavender proclaims before Luna can even answer the question.

Harry sighs, a gentle look on his face. “Lavender—”

“I’m not going to give up just because he kissed his friend. I won’t,” Lavender insists. She turns her gaze back onto her plate, and Harry’s green eyes sharpen as he leans forward and begins to scoop mashed potatoes onto Lavender’s sparse salad plate. “What are you doing? I was sorting my salad.”

“It’s sorted enough. You need more food. The mashed potatoes are good,” Harry says sharply. He sounds angry, but something in his eyes makes Ginny think that he’s _ afraid, _ for some reason. She’d never seen Harry Potter _ afraid_.

Something unsettling falls over the group and they all turn their gazes away except for Harry who stares at Lavender long and hard until Lavender lifts a forkful of mashed potatoes to her lips. Harry sits back, satisfied, and his gaze softens.

“He does snog Bellatrix a lot. It doesn’t mean anything, even if Bellatrix wants it to,” Harry confirms softly. Lavender brightens around the fork in her mouth. “But, you shouldn’t expect anything out of Riddle.”

Lavender frowns at him and then forces a smile on her face, as if Harry is being too cautious and too silly, and too _ real _for her.

“I think there’s a connection between Tom and I. We’re different,” Lavender says with the utmost conviction.

This seems to be enough for Hermione. She leans forward and grabs Lavender’s hand.

“Guys like Riddle aren’t emotionally available. I don’t think—”

“You said that you’ve never been in a relationship yourself, Hermione. I think I’ll take advice from someone else,” Lavender says coldly. Having barely touched her own food, Lavender shoves her plate away from herself, and she looks around the table. “I’ve been listening to the WNN and I’m drafting a letter to Witch Weekly to figure out what to do. Let’s stop talking about _ my _love life, then.”

The awkward silence that follows is almost stressful as Ginny’s inner turmoil. She shivers at the chilliness that Hermione and Lavender regard one another with. She isn’t sure what _ that _issue stems from, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess. Ginny’s never known two people so incredibly different from one another. It’s almost alarming that they can even tolerate being in one another’s presence for more than five seconds, just breathing together, let alone the bickering.

“Aren’t you going to eat a little more, Lavender?” Luna asks softly, breaking the silence.

Lavender’s eyes narrow. “Are you going to police me too, Luna?” she snaps.

Luna’s moon grey eyes sharpen into moonrock. “No. I just wanted to know if I could have more of your mashed potatoes. But if you want it, eat up, then.”

Out of spite, Lavender takes a spoonful of her food and swallows it, like it was sticky cement. Ginny feels a rush of relief despite herself.

“You know. I heard something in the wrackspurts,” Luna says, almost like a peace-offering. It shatters the tension in a way. Whenever Luna hears something from the wrackspurts, it’s always a juicy bit of gossip. Even Ginny can’t resist it.

“What did you hear?” Hermione asks, begrudgingly. She always interested, despite herself, and she exchanges a look with Lavender, something kinder between them, forged by the promise of talking about someone that isn’t one another.

“The wrackspurts heard that Blaise Zabini was _ snogging _someone in the bathroom at the party.”

Ginny’s heart stutters to a stop. She very carefully doesn’t look at her brother. He very carefully doesn’t look at her, and underneath her panic, she is awash in gratitude, because _ Ron _—Ron, even with his lack of tact, will not be the one to sell her out to their gossip-mongering friends.

“How did you hear about _ that _?” Lavender asks.

Ginny swallows. “Yeah! Who…who did you hear that from?”

Luna shrugs. “The wrackspurts. Something about him chasing this girl into the bathroom and when he came out, he looked _ very _ well-kissed,” Luna says, and sometimes, Ginny forgets that the absent-minded girl can make something rather innocent sound so _ wicked_.

Lavender giggles her delight. “Well, I _ have _to know! I just have to,” she insists.

And as she delves into her predictions, Ginny turns her attention back to her own food. She looks up, across the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables to the Slytherins. Tom Riddle is sitting amongst his Death Eaters, Bellatrix’s head on his shoulder. And farther down, is Draco Malfoy with his own subpar cronies.

Blaise Zabini is watching her. His lips pull into a rueful smile.

Ginny’s suddenly not very hungry.


	30. TUESDAY, 3:43PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which, Ron really is Ginny's favorite siblings.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> When I grow up, I'm gonna be happy and do what I like to do,  
Like making noise and making faces and making friends like you.  
And when we grow up, do you think we'll see  
That I'm still like you and you're still like me?
> 
> When We Grow Up, Diana Ross

“Hey.”

Ron finds her whenever she doesn’t want to be found. That’s how it’s always been. Even when they were wee things, Ron would always be the first to find her in ‘hide and seek’ if he were ‘it’. Ginny can’t be angry with him for it; it’s like he has a ‘Point me Ginny’ spell inside of him. Ron settles heavily next to her onto the bench and fidgets, rocking this way and back, leaning back against the row of seats behind him until he gets comfortable.

Ginny just stares at him because she hates when Ron fucking fidgets.

“Can you stop?” Ginny drawls.

Ron scoffs, “Whatever.”

“Why were you looking for me?” she asks.

Ron hums and finally looks over at her, leaning back on his elbows, a disbelieving expression on his face as he regards her. Ginny doesn’t flinch from that look, waiting patiently for him to bring up what he’d seen last Friday. She knows it’ll come up, now that they’re finally alone.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks instead.

Ginny startles. “What?”

“Everything…Mum says you still write her about Romilda. I mentioned Dean in my last letter and she didn’t have an idea who he was. You two were so close,” Ron says softly.

Ginny scowls. “Well, I’m growing up. She doesn’t need to know everything about me.”

Ron laughs softly and nods. Ginny’s scowl deepens, because it feels like he’s  _ laughing  _ at her.

“I understand that,” he says. He sighs and looks over at her. “Gin. What happened with Romilda?”

Ginny’s scowl slips off. She shakes next to him, wraps her arms around herself and looks straight ahead, onto the pitch. No one has asked her that, yet. Everyone has heard whispers and rumors, but no one has sat down with Ginny and asked what happened. Even if the story isn’t right—the story isn’t in her favor—it’s hers to tell. It isn’t fodder for the masses.

_ No one has asked her that, yet. _

Ginny swallows and turns to face her brother, her knees pressed against his bony thigh.

“When…last year, do you remember when Romilda and Dean first started dating?”

Ron nods slowly. “Yes.”

“Well...they weren’t really happy. For a lot of that time. They, like, bonded a lot because they’re both Muggleborns. But, like...they fought a lot because Dean is so relaxed, and Millie— _ Romilda  _ is so high strung. And when they fought, they’d  _ both  _ come to me, to talk it out,” Ginny says haltingly, because there is where it started. This is where she should’ve  _ known  _ to mind her own fucking business.

“Okay,” Ron prompts.

“Well, Dean and I...we got closer. And, like, Millie  _ told  _ me that she didn’t want to be with him. So, during the summer, we grew closer. He visited me. Remember when he...he came to the Burrow? Well.” Ginny stops here, shakes her head and this is the worst of it, because they’d had sex before they’d gotten together, but they’d also had sex before he’d broken up with  _ Millie _ . “He broke up with her. We got together right after.”

Ron stares at her for a long time and then he leans forward, wrapping his long arm around her smaller body, pulling her head to his shoulder. Ginny sinks into his side and sighs, because she doesn’t feel like crying, but she  _ does  _ feel exhausted.

“If you did all of that, then, why did you kiss Zabini?”

Ginny flinches at the damning question.

_ Why did she kiss Zabini? _

“Because...because Dean...Dean and I...I don’t  _ know _ . He’s been with Millie recently. Everywhere. And I just—”

“So, you cheated on him because you thought he was cheating on you?” Ron asks.

It just makes Ginny feel worse. She sighs, dropping her face into her hands, digging her palms in her eyes. Ron squeezes again, awkwardly patting her back. Ginny giggles into her hand, staring up at her brother with a slight smile.

“I’m stupid,” Ginny says softly.

Ron shakes his head. “Well…maybe a little,” he admits. He squawks when Ginny smacks him in the arm. “ _ You’re  _ not stupid. But, that wasn’t smart. You’ve got to admit that.”

“Yeah, well,” Ginny drawls. She stares out at the Quidditch Pitch, thinks she sees the Hufflepuff team filing into the locker room. They aren’t quite bold enough to try to make Ginny and Ron go away, but they’ll be on the end of some rather nasty glares.

“Another not smart thing…” Ron starts awkwardly. He looks at Ginny, his ears slowly going red as he considers her.

Ginny feels a strong sense of foreboding.

“What?” she mutters.

She doesn’t want to look at him. She’s not sure if she can, or if she should.

“Do you like Harry?” Ron asks. He’s gentle in ways that he hasn’t been for years. Even still, Ginny feels her cheeks burn.

“I…I used to…and I—”

“Don’t,” he says. It doesn’t sound forbidden, so much as it feels final. “Harry isn’t…a lot of people think they fancy Harry. They don’t know Harry. First, Ginny…he’s not attracted to you. Don’t…set yourself up for heartbreak. And second…he’s not  _ damaged _ , but he wouldn’t be good for you.”

Ginny swallows around the little girl heart in her throat, and stares at her brother for a long time.

“Don’t—I’m  _ not _ .”

Ron smiles at her. “He’s very easy to love.”

“He is,” Ginny breathes, because he is.

Harry is beautiful and kind and strong and brave. He’s fiercely loyal and bold. Harry Potter isn’t afraid, like Ginny sometimes is, and the more she knows him, the more she isn’t sure if she’s always wanted Harry Potter or wanted to be him. Sometimes, she looks in the mirror and wonders what it’s like to know one’s self as much as Harry knows himself. His ideals are never shaken. She doesn’t think that he lets others dictate who he is.

“There it is,” Ron calls.

“There’s what?” Ginny retorts.

Ron snorts. “The hero worship.  _ That’s  _ why he’s not good for you.”

Ginny blanches. She’s shaking her head violently before she can even properly formulate a rebuttal. “I don’t...there isn’t...I don’t  _ worship  _ Harry,” she sputters.

Ron doesn’t believe her. But, he doesn’t question her denial. He just nods at her and leans over to drag her into his side more. Ginny squawks, fighting against his hold. She doesn’t fight as hard as she could against him. Ginny looks up at him.

“Thanks,” she mutters, eyes darting away before Ron can look down at her.

“Anytime.”

And even though she isn’t looking at him, she can feel his smile.


	31. WEDNESDAY, 11:12AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which, Tom Riddle continues to torment Lavender by fully not speaking to her thus, is it really torment? (Answer: Yes.)
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "Womanizer, woman-womanizer, you're a womanizer  
Oh, womanizer, oh, you're a womanizer, baby  
You-you-you are, you-you-you are  
Womanizer, womanizer, womanizer"
> 
> -Womanizer, Britney Spears

Ginny doesn’t want to call it pathetic, the way Lavender moons over Riddle, but it’s almost verging on pathetic.

He isn’t even with his friends during break. He’s sitting in a corner of the courtyard, alone, staring intently down at his textbooks. Ginny always forgets how studious Riddle is because all anyone talks about is how he’s going to be the Minister for Magic one day and how handsome and talented he is _ (with both of his wands). _ But, Riddle studies. It’s almost strange.

“Should I go talk to him?” Lavender sighs out for the third time.

Ginny exchanges a look over Lavender’s head with Harry. Harry has a dry smile on his face and he shakes his head, just a little. Neither of them are extra inclined to send Lavender over there to lay herself prostrate at Riddle’s feet. But, it’s good that Hermione and Ron aren’t there. Lavender doesn’t need Hermione’s brand of tough love. Ron would just sulk.

“Maybe not,” Harry says gently. “He looks busy.”

“But, he’s not with the other Death Eaters. It might be my only chance. I’ve…I tried to send him a note at breakfast. My owl returned it, unopened,” Lavender admits. Her cheeks are slightly pink. She lurches forward, like she’s readying herself to march over to him before she settles in the grass again. She pulls her cloak more tightly around her; it’s chilly.

“That’s okay, Lavender. Maybe he’s just busy. He _ is _a seventh year,” Ginny says as supportively as she can even though she’s full of doubt. “And isn’t he the president of the duelling club? Hogwarts is hosting the tournament this year. And I’m sure he wants to win.”

Lavender pouts at Ginny’s logic.

“But, he’s even the teaching assistant in Defence. And he hasn’t looked at me _ once _ . I tried to corner him after class, but Professor _ Lupin _ asked to speak with him,” Lavender says with a pout. She glares at Harry and he lifts his hand in surrender.

“Well, it’s not _ my _fault that Moony wanted to speak to him!” Harry protests.

Lavender huffs. “Maybe you can distract him next time? Professor Lupin, I mean,” she asks. She shakes her head. “I should talk to him now, shouldn’t I?”

“But, he’s studying,” Harry says, just a little more firmly.

Lavender huffs, shaking her head. She looks around, her gaze falling on Zabini and Malfoy. She looks intrigued. They’re with Crabbe and Goyle, so there shouldn’t be anything interesting. Ginny only allows herself to look over at them briefly and she feels a crush of relief when she sees that Zabini isn’t _ looking _at her.

“How did you know that Zabini hooked up with someone, Luna?” Lavender asks, staring over at Zabini with curious eyes.

Luna hums to herself. Inexplicably, she looks at Ginny for a second too long before she looks back over at Zabini like nothing happened. “People say he followed a girl into the bathroom. And then, the girl left and he ran after her.”

“And no one saw the girl? Out of _ all _of those people?” Lavender asks, sounding far too disappointed for not knowing the hot gossip.

“People were drunk and it was dark. Did you expect them to see anything?” Harry drawls. He sits back and stares up at the sun, effortlessly cool, and for a moment, Ginny thinks that Ron might be on to something with the whole ‘hero worship’ thing.

“Well, he went outside after her. I don’t know what happened after,” Luna says with a shrug. She doesn’t care very much.

But that only piques Lavender’s curiosity even more. Harry seems willing to indulge her, if it takes her mind off of Riddle. It only makes Ginny’s anxiety ramp up as Lavender looks around the entire courtyard, as if she’ll be able to identify ‘the girl’ on sight. Ginny presses her back closer to her side of the stone arch, trying to match the gray stone in color. Harry looks at her curiously, but Ginny looks away in shame.

Harry thinks she’s great. She couldn’t bear it if he _ knew_.

“I need some help on my Defence homework,” Ginny blurts out, looking over at Harry. Harry looks at her, surprised. “It’s an essay. On...offensive attacks of creatures.”

“I thought that was for Care,” Luna comments.

Ginny swallows, more flustered than ever.

“That’s what I meant!” she insists.

But, she no longer needs to worry about whatever Lavender might say about Zabini and the mysterious girl. Lavender’s attention is elsewhere.

Bellatrix Black is holding court.

“Tom is going to be Minister one day, just you wait,” Bellatrix declares. She leans forward, looking at her gaggle of Slytherin girls, who all hang off her every word. Ginny isn’t sure if it’s because she’s Bellatrix Black or if it’s because she’s talking about fucking _ Riddle_. “It makes sense that he’s getting all of the silly schoolgirls and schoolboys out of his system."

Lavender sits up, as if Bellatrix’s words have Summoned her.

“Ignore her…” Luna whispers, but Lavender waves her hand at her, like she doesn’t quite hear Luna.

Bellatrix hums. “He’s been meeting with my father, you know. About positions in the Ministry, and you have to understand that, in bureaucracy, one doesn’t get far without certain…_ elements_. Like a good wife. Of a reputable family,” Bellatrix says.

One Slytherin girl—Daphne Greengrass—perks up, her eyes disturbingly wide. “Do you think that your father will arrange—”

“I don’t know,” Bellatrix interrupts, because she knows better, at least, than to claim Riddle so openly. Ginny has seen the boy disregard her whenever she got too handsy. Ginny still wasn’t clear on where that line was. “I just know that he doesn’t care to sleep around with people anymore. His acquaintances get...clingy. They all think they can have him.”

And with those words, Bellatrix looks directly across the courtyard, straight at Lavender. Discreetly, the other Slytherin girls follow her gaze, and then spin to look back at one another when they realize Lavender is staring. They break out into a round of giggles. Ginny is glad that she can’t see Lavender’s face.

She doesn’t think she’d be able to take watching her friend’s heart break.

“And how would you know about what Riddle wants?” one brave Slytherin girl asks. It’s Pansy Parkinson, who still looks ill, but she doesn’t seem impressed by Bellatrix’s posturing.

It must grate on her nerves. Ginny likes Parkinson just a little more then.

“Tom tells me _ everything_. About every boy. About _ every _girl,” Bellatrix says, never looking away from Lavender. And then, her purple-painted lips pull into a wide grin and then, she lets out a long laugh that seems never-ending.

Ginny watches Lavender go from pink to red, and it’s enough.

Ginny stands up, but Luna latches onto her ankle, shaking her head. Luna tilts her head lightly, and Ginny follows her gaze over to Riddle himself. Riddle slowly looks up from his assignment and stares right at Bellatrix. Bellatrix looks away from Lavender to the boy she practically worships, and she pales, ever so slightly.

“But no matter that. Now, let me tell you about my latest job interview. It’s _ quite _the career move,” Bellatrix says before launching into another tale that she can’t help but mention Riddle frequently in, no matter how tangential he is to the narrative.

Lavender turns away, practically pressing herself into Luna’s side, and Luna wraps an arm around her, tucking her close.

“He _ talked _about you to her.”

Harry looks furious. He’s glaring over at Bellatrix and the other Slytherin girls, but they’ve moved on to other things than tormenting poor sixth year girls. Lavender looks up, a little dazed, and a lot crushed. Harry slips off the little sill he and Ginny share, and kneels in the grass next to Lavender. He grabs her hand, squeezing tight.

“You can’t just let that _ slide_, Lavender,” Harry insists.

Ginny swallows. “That was..._ bad _.”

“Bad?” Harry asks in disbelief. “Riddle is—_ ugh! _”

Lavender trembles and she shakes her head. “But...he stopped her.”

Harry huffs and takes her by her hand, dragging her up so that she’s standing. Luna and Ginny leap up, just moments after, looking at him with wide eyes. Harry grabs Lavender by the shoulder and guides her to turn.

“Do you see that girl? Olive Hornby? Ravenclaw. She was one of Riddle’s acquaintances. She slept with Riddle,” Harry says firmly. She turns Lavender in another direction. Points again. “And him, that’s Philip Blagdon. Hufflepuff. _ He’s _one of Riddle’s acquaintances too. And then, Bellatrix. Slytherin. You know the story.”

Lavender stares up at Harry, wide-eyed.

“What are you…”

“Have some integrity, Lav! He always has an ‘acquaintance’ in each House. The only one that never changes is Bellatrix. They all fall in love with him, and think they can be with him, but they won’t!” Harry cries out. And then, he dips his head lower, pressing his forehead to hers. “And I know...I know you think you’re the one, but you’re not.”

And he’s said what Ginny couldn’t because she didn’t want to talk, she wanted to _ hurt_. But, Lavender hurts too, no matter the truth. She shivers.

“You’re not the loser,” Ginny whispers. “He _ is._”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Luna insists, her optimism finally at its end.

Lavender swallows. “I know you’re supposed to think that if a boy doesn’t like you, he’s the problem. Not you. But, it’s not that easy. There’s something wrong with _ me_,” she whispers to Harry.

And Harry pulls her close.


	32. WEDNESDAY, 7:58PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Harry delivers the read of a century
> 
> ~*~
> 
> I met someone new last night and we kicked it  
And I'm going back there tonight  
And you know what's on my mind, this time  
Going back there tonight  
And you know what's on my mind
> 
> Teenage Fever, Drake

Lavender slams her hand on the dinner table, letting her fork clatter to the wood. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet all of dinner, but she looks fierce and excited now. Ready. Ginny feels an odd sense of foreboding wash over her. She looks over at Lavender warily.

“I’ve decided on what I’m going to say to Tom,” Lavender declares.

Ginny chokes on her peas. “Say?” she asks. She can’t believe she’s going to do it.

“What do you mean?” Ron asks.

Harry smiles. “She’s going to call Riddle out on his behavior.”

Hermione gasps in sheer delight.

“Good for you, Lavender,” Hermione declares. She leans forward and pats Lavender’s hand with an indulgent smile on her face. “Stand up for yourself. Riddle doesn’t deserve you!”

Harry nods his own stamp of approval and that seems to clear up any of Lavender’s uncertainty, especially when Luna exits from her own personal world and nods too.

“Are you sure?” Ron blurts out before Ginny can.

Hermione turns her glare onto Ron. “Why not? Lavender isn’t just...some _ girl _ Riddle can hook up with and leave to gossip with his little girlfriend about. She _ should _stand up for herself. Girls shouldn’t have to put up with guys like that.”

“Yeah, but I’m a guy,” Ron defends. “It’s like…it’s better to play cool. If he notices that she’s not chasing him, maybe he won’t talk about her anymore.”

Harry shakes his head, staring at Ron with a small frown. “As another guy, I’d argue that it’s _ absolutely _necessary for her to say something. She should stand up for herself and for all the other people he’s treated like this. Riddle is an arse. Lavender will be the first to have any courage in saying something to him about it.”

Ginny sighs and taps her fingers on the edge of the table. “I’d just play it cool myself. And rise above it. Otherwise, I’d be in detention all of the time from throwing curses.”

Harry looks amused by her answer. Hermione is steadily disapproving, consistently shaking her head in rejection of the Weasley siblings’ non-support. 

Luna hums to herself. “I ignore it too. When people take my shoes or call me ‘Loony’,” Luna says softly. Ginny winces because that hurts more. That’s _ real_. Luna turns to Lavender, her expression more off-balance than before. Her mouth twists with uncertainty. “I’m not sure if you should do it either. If you complain, it makes you the crazy one, because it’s their word against yours.”

Lavender looks less certain. She plays with her salad more and Ginny sighs, setting aside her own misgivings to nod at Lavender, grabbing her attention. Lavender isn’t her. Lavender can do whatever she wants, no matter that Ginny feels finished with men herself. Lavender clearly isn’t. Lavender _ likes _Riddle, more than she should, and Ginny knows that she’ll never get his respect unless she demands it.

“Well, he looks finished with dinner. This is your chance if you’re going to do it,” Ginny says.

Lavender swallows hard as she and the rest of them turn to stare at the Slytherin table. Riddle stands and in unison, his friends rise just a few seconds after him. Bellatrix links her arm through his and Riddle doesn’t seem to mind as he leads them past the Ravenclaw table towards the Entrance Hall.

Lavender launches out of her seat, and Ginny gets up too because there’s no way that she’s letting Lavender do this on her own. Harry rises with her and he glares at the rest, prompting them to stand up and follow a few paces behind as Lavender marches after Riddle, her tiny fists clenched at her side. She’s staring at Riddle’s back as he goes towards the Grand Staircase.

Bellatrix looks over her shoulder and she stops, her lips curling into a smile.

With her sharp, bright tone, Bellatrix calls, “Tom. One of your…_acquaintances _.”

She says it in the way someone would say ‘pet’.

Lavender flushes a dull pink.

Riddle turns and his friends turn with him, all looking surprised by their new shadows.

Riddle is unfairly attractive. For a moment, Ginny understands why Lavender was hypnotized by the man. Though he’s barely emoting, there’s something charming about him. He’s tall with black hair swooped back with gel, a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and dark burgundy eyes that feel just a little exotic. He’s not even wearing the unflattering Hogwarts robes, having exchanged them for a tailored black Muggle suit that clings to the long, lean lines of him.

It’s ridiculous.

Lavender stumbles to a stop in front of Riddle and she looks up at him with a fierce expression on her face.

“Hi!” Lavender says, just a little sharp, a little too bright.

Riddle raises an eyebrow. “Hello?” he returns.

“I just wanted to say that if you think you can treat me like the others, you’re wrong. I’m not one of your conquests that you can just—” Lavender says, and she sounds uncertain at the start, but she gains speed, her words crashing into one another and then, all Riddle has to do is lift a finger.

“Stop,” he commands. Lavender’s mouth shuts with a click. Riddle looks her up and down, slowly. Not like he wants her. More like he’s trying to— “I’m sorry. What was your name again?”

Ginny stops breathing.

So does everyone else.

Lavender lets out a soft gasp of disbelief. “Lavender. Lavender Brown. Sixth year—”

Riddle reaches forward to grab her tie between two of his fingers, dragging it down the wool. “Gryffindor. Right,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. “Lavender Brown, I believe this is what we would call a miscommunication problem. I thought I had made myself clear. If I have made you think that you were one of my conquests, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

Lavenders nods, slowly. “Okay?”

“If you were…I would remember you. That must mean you were easy pickings and I’ve never cared for easy,” Tom Riddle says, and there is something in his eyes now that feel like they mean to _ hurt_. He is enjoying this.

Ginny feels a flash of hatred because this man _ does _ remember Lavender. He remembers her and says he doesn’t because he knows it would hurt her in her soft bits, and he wants it to hurt. Ginny knows the kind of guy that Riddle is. He’s charming and cruel in equal measure, and he gives a _ fuck_, no matter that he pretends that he only cares about his grades and his future.

Tom Riddle is a performer, for his own entertainment and the cruel children in his company.

Riddle leans forward to watch the tears well in Lavender’s eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he says sharply. “It’s unbecoming.”

Lavender lets out a cracking sound, hiccupping to swallow her own sobs, and then she takes off, swerving around the jackal-like Death Eaters as they fall into soft snickers. Bellatrix stifles her cackles in her hand. Luna runs after her, her feet pounding stone. Ginny can hear her own blood rushing in her ears and she whips out her wand before she can think better. The Lestranges lift their wands in turn.

“You’re a piece of—” Ron begins.

But, Harry neatly slots himself into the space where Lavender was and everyone falls silent. The air feels different now, and when Ginny looks at him, she can see the rage that blisters just under the surface. Harry is shaking, but he’s watching Riddle like he’s something to dissect.

And then, he begins.

“How pathetic,” Harry asks, breathing slow and hard, “do you have to feel to be so mean to a person?”

Bellatrix squawks and lunges forward but Riddle holds up a hand, holding her back as he stares down at Harry like he’s something to take apart. He doesn’t back down. He welcomes Harry’s verbal assault, Harry’s righteous fury. Harry’s glare is a frozen thing.

“What happened to you that you have such a _ magnificent _ inferiority complex?” Harry continues, looking him up and down. Tom Riddle doesn’t flinch away from Harry’s stare, not like Ginny might’ve because Harry is _ terrifying _in this moment. “What is it? Did you have a difficult childhood?”

Riddle’s lips twitch but he doesn’t say anything. It spurs Harry on.

“Who did it? Was it mummy? Did she never tell you that she loved you? Or was it Daddy? Maybe you could never quite make him _ proud_,” Harry says. Then, he laughs, breathless and false, and he shakes his head, tapping a finger against Riddle’s chest. “No. No, that’s not it. I understand. You were a late bloomer and in fourth year, they plucked off the few pubic hairs that you _ did _have with Spellotape. That must be it. That’s it, of course. My mistake.”

Harry drops his smile again, and he’s sneering and for a moment, Ginny’s _ scared _ for Riddle. But, Riddle—he’s still _ smiling_, showing all of his teeth.

“Whatever it is, I suggest you get over it. Don’t treat sixteen year olds like shite just because they fell in love with you after you fucked them. Start behaving like a human being. Stop being a fucking cliche,” Harry says. He takes a step closer and whispers, “_Move_.”

And Riddle _ moves_.

He steps to the side, and his little Death Eaters scurry out of their way, bewildered by their leader’s surrender.

Harry stalks off, leading them to where Lavender and Luna have run off to. Ginny feels victorious. She looks back, wanting to see the look on the great Tom Riddle’s face.

While Bellatrix looks outraged, Tom Riddle doesn’t and it’s disconcerting. It’s dissonant to what she’d thought about him.

Tom Riddle doesn’t look angry.

He looks _ intrigued_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here is the inciting incident for "euphoria", Harry's season. Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> His speech at the end is LARGELY bits and pieces of the many different Noora's speeches across the version, but definitely inspired most by OG Skam, Druck, and Skam Austin.


	33. MONDAY, 7:19AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Romilda realizes something.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Uh, baby while we're young we should just have fun  
We should just do whatever we want  
And tell everyone that we fell in love with each other  
Ooh that we found the one in one another
> 
> While We're Young, Jhene Aiko

Light streams through the cracks in Dean’s bed curtains, beams of sun cutting across Ginny’s eyes. She soaks in the lukewarm light, basking in it, before she squints against it. The blinding nature of it makes her twist, tucking deeper into Dean’s side, her face buried in his neck. Dean’s arm tightens around her waist, his other hand travelling down her freckled thigh to pull it closer over his hips.

Ginny smiles, looking up at his face.

His eyes are scrunched too tight and at the angle she’s at, she can see the upturned left corner of his mouth.

“Good morning,” she whispers.

Dean squeezes his eyes tighter, his nose scrunched. Ginny giggles softly and rolls over, grabbing her wand from under her pillow.

“_Silencio_,” she murmurs against the bed curtains and a veil descends upon them. She looks up at him and smiles. “We don’t want Ron getting too suspicious.”

“About?” Dean drawls. His eyes are still closed. He’s cute. Too cute.

“This.”

Ginny crawls forward and rolls on top of him, pressing her lips to his mouth. She likes the feel of him between her thighs as she brackets his slim hips. She balances over him on her elbows as she kisses him, licking into his mouth. She tastes his laughter, feels the way his hands drag over the back of her freckled thighs and brush against the hem of her boy shorts.

His grip tightens, and his hips rock up to meet her.

Ginny gasps hot air against his skin as she kisses, holding him tight against her, and she feels herself getting wet. It’s rare that it’s just them, and maybe, it’s not just them in the dorm, but it feels like it. It feels like Dean and her at the end of the world, and it’s all she wants.

“Merlin, you’re hot,” he gasps wetly against her ear.

She laughs in her throat, sucking bruises down his neck and he returns it, before toppling her off. She laughs louder as he crawls on top of her and his hands slide up her sides, under her tank top to touch bare freckled skin. He nibbles on her collarbone, brushes kisses to the small swell of her breasts over her shirt. He’s everywhere and nowhere, and _ Merlin_, it’s moments like these that make her think that she might love him.

Ginny’s never been in love, not really.

She thinks she could fall in love with Dean.

And she wants him. She wants him so _ bad, _and they haven’t really had sex since the summer, but she wants. And for some reason, she can’t help but think about Lavender and Riddle.

_ He went down on me._

Ginny doesn’t know what that’s like. She just knows hot hands, and tongue on her neck, and a cock in her hand. She wants to know what it feels like to have a man between her thighs, focusing only on _ her. _

“Dean…” she gasps as he sucks down her sternum, pushing her tank top. “_ Dean! _”

“Y-yes?” he gasps as he pulls away from her to stare at her.

Ginny flushes as she stares up at him. She pushes past her embarrassment, and asks, “Will you go down on me?”

Dean falls back on his haunches and just stares at her. As if she’s said something in _ Troll_.

“What?” he asks.

Ginny sits up on her elbows and stares at him where he’s kneeling between her spread thighs, like he hasn’t rucked up her shirt and tugged on her shorts.

“Will you go down on me?” she repeats, enunciating each word.

Dean has never blushed, but she can read his embarrassment loud and clear. He doesn’t look her in the eye, simply staring down at his own sheets and shifting nervously.

“I...Ginny,” he mutters. He opens his mouth and closes it again. “I just...I wouldn’t know how.”

Ginny frowns. Her nose twitches in annoyance.

“It’s not that hard. You get down there, you lick, I tell you what I like and what I don’t,” Ginny says.

“But, it’s—”

“I’ve sucked your dick. Why is this different?” Ginny demands. He looks at her, helpless and furious—but not with her, with himself, because this is something he can’t give her. Ginny doesn’t know why, but Dean won’t do _ this_.

She can see it.

Even if he _ does _do it, he won’t do it because he wants to. It’ll be because she whinged enough to get him to give in. Ginny rolls away from him, no longer feeling near as turned on as she had been just moments before.

“Ginny? W-where are you going?” Dean stammers.

She hushes him violently and grabs her wand. “Be quiet. School will start soon. I should get dressed.”

Dean reaches out to grab her wrist before she slips out of bed. He stares at her with wide eyes, and she wants to melt when she looks at him until she remembers that he didn’t want to go _ down _on her. He hadn’t said the word ‘weird’, but she knew subtext.

She wasn’t fucking stupid.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers.

“It’s...whatever, Dean,” she sighs. She leans in, kisses the corner of his mouth.

Her dragon brain hisses, _ Zabini would’ve went down on you_.

It just drags up more regret, more shame, more everything.

Ginny suddenly feels violently sick. She shouldn’t be angry that Dean didn’t want to pleasure her, even though she’s had his dick in her mouth at least six times, and she hasn’t cum with him _ once_. She doesn’t deserve that. She shouldn’t.

“Hey…I was thinking...maybe you should write your Mum,” Dean says.

Ginny blinks at the sudden change of subject. “About?” she asks, voice a touch too cool. She flinches and warms herself considerably. “You have something to say my mum, love?”

It’s the first time she’s called him that, ‘love’, and he beams.

She doesn’t _ mean _it.

Not yet. Not ever now, maybe.

_ Zabini would’ve_—

“If your parents aren’t busy, I was thinking...this might be the perfect weekend to meet your parents,” Dean says.

Ginny’s heart falls into her stomach. There are so many things she wants to say.

_ No. Absolutely not. Never. Nada. Nope. Sorry, love, but not gonna happen. _

Except, she can’t say that. She can’t say that because then, he’ll want to know why and everything will spill out—including her kiss with Zabini. And she can’t do that to Dean. Not when Dean is so very _ Dean_, even when he’s being fucking annoying.

“Okay,” she says with a smile. “I’ll ask.”

Dean’s grin brightens and he leans forward, kissing her on the mouth.

He doesn’t even notice when she doesn’t kiss back.

“Thanks, Gin. Do you want to get breakfast?” he asks.

It’ll be the first morning in a while that she doesn’t dine with her friends. She misses them already.

“Okay,” Ginny says.

She pulls away from him before he can kiss her again. She slides out of his bed and the Silencing Charm shatters. As she stands outside of his bed-curtains, she looks around. Seamus is still asleep, as is Neville. She’s not worried about Ron—he’s always been a deep and ugly sleeper.

It’s the last roommate that she’s worried about.

She glances over at Harry’s bed.

He’s not there.

She doesn’t hear the shower running either.

Ginny decides not to look a gift hippogriff in the beak, and creeps out of the dorm. She only relaxes when she shuts the door behind her, and she pounds down the steps, going across the landing before she runs back up to the fifth year girl’s room. Ginny slips into the dorm room.

Yacine and Stella are already dressed, applying their makeup.

Ginny brushes past them, ignoring them as she throws open her trunk, searching for a fresh tie after she’s charred her other one in Potions yesterday. Briefly, she glances over at Romilda. Romilda stands in front of her own personal mirror, braiding the unshaved side of her hair against her head. Romilda makes eye contact with her through the reflection, and Ginny looks down, not expecting a word out of her.

“Who were _ you _with this morning?” Romilda asks.

Ginny almost stumbles over her own trunk because it’s the first time that Romilda has spoken directly to her in a long time. She pulls out a fresh tie and throws the trunk shut as she looks at her uniform laid out on her bedspread. Ginny throws a scathing look over her shoulder.

“Who else? My _ boyfriend_,” she says, a little nastier than she probably should be.

Romilda just smiles. And, sweetly, she asks, “Which _ one _?”


	34. TUESDAY, 11:29PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which friction catches fire.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "The truth will set you free  
But first, it'll piss you off."
> 
> -Lemon, N.E.R.D

The Three Broomsticks is pretty crowded for a Tuesday night. Ginny laughs into her goblet of butterbeer at one of Ron’s jokes. It’s chilly outside, but in the pub, it’s warm and full of students’ laughter. Madame Rosmerta doesn’t give a shit that most of her customers are underaged students, breaking curfew. She’s careful not to give the especially young ones—though there are very few, maybe a fourth year, here and there—anything stronger than pumpkin juice.

“How often do you come here to break curfew?” Luna asks.

Ginny cackles at the baldfaced question, because Luna is staring _ right _at Hermione.

Hermione sputters into her butterbeer. “Not often!” she protests. “It’s to keep _ these _two out of trouble.”

“Yeah, right,” Ron squawks, shaking his head. He’s a bit in his cups, having already thrown back an entire tankard of some mixed drink.

Lisa Turpin is behind the bar with Madame Rosmerta, helping her out with the greasy pub food and drinks. Ginny heard that she’d be able to keep the tips for the night.

“Hermione likes it here. She likes being in the middle of it,” Ron insists.

Hermione shakes her head, adamant in her disapproval. “No! I’m just...I’m the _ only _prefect here. If something goes wrong, I need to be here,” she says.

It’s a pretty okay excuse, except—

“Well, if you don’t want anything to happen, why don’t you report everyone and send them back to the castle?” Lavender points out.

Hermione huffs, crossing her arms.

“Then, they’d all be _ mean _to her, and we can’t have that,” Harry coos, pinching her cheek.

Hermione slaps his hand away. “You think I care if people like me, habibi? I’ve already got you lot,” she says. She says it angrily, but Ginny feels a rush of affection for her, because she’s talking about _ all _of them.

Ginny has friends—a group that has her back. A team, just like in Quidditch. If she fell, they’d catch her, just like any other Chaser or Beater on the team. Ginny leans into Hermione’s side, and Hermione looks down at her.

“What is it?” she asks.

“You’re just the best witch of your age. You know?” Ginny says.

Hermione blinks, and if she were a shade lighter, Ginny thinks she might blush. Hermione snorts instead and pats her on her head.

“You’re drunk, habibi,” she mumbles.

Ginny laughs. “I’m not, but if that makes you feel better,” she shrugs.

Hermione smirks and nods, looking away from Ginny.

“Have you heard the new Weird Sisters single on the wireless?” Lavender asks. Luna suddenly looks more interested and Ginny’s reminded of Luna and Harry doing the hippogriff on _ that _ night. “It’s actually _ good._”

“You say that like every Weird Sisters song is _ bad_,” Harry says, rolling his eyes.

Lavender blinks. “Well…it is.”

“Blasphemy,” Ron gasps, clutching at his chest dramatically.

Luna giggles and shakes her head. “Have you heard that their lead singer is _ actually _ a Muggle _ disguised_—”

“Is he Luna?” Hermione doesn’t even let her finish before she drawls at her, amused.

Luna nods, quite seriously. “My father’s just published an in-depth investigation in the Quibbler. I can get you a copy if you like.”

Ginny can see the judgment Hermione’s about to wield until Harry sends her a look that quells any condescension Hermione might’ve had in store. Hermione leans back and nods.

“I’ll read it,” she allows like it’s a great chore.

Ginny snorts. “I’m going to get us more drinks. What does everyone want?”

Ron leans forward. “Firewh—”

“It’s a school night,” Hermione interrupts firmly. “Butterbeer.”

Ron groans, and Ginny giggles to herself as she heaves herself up from the table and walks towards the bar, letting the two bicker behind her. She sidles up to the bar and leans over towards Lisa Turpin. Lisa quirks an eyebrow at her.

“Unicorn blood, eh?” she asks.

“It’s a school night. Just butterbeer. Two, please.”

“Why not,” Lisa drawls and she turns around to the chiller to pull out two bottles.

Ginny hears someone shift beside her, moving to stand _ right _next to her. Something crawls up her spine and when she turns to see the person, she sees a shaved head.

Romilda stares straight ahead, silent. She thinks her silence will be enough, but Ginny has her _ team _ now, her friends, and Romilda is all alone.

“You don’t bother me anymore, Romilda. So, let’s stop being children, okay?” Ginny barks.

Romilda snorts, rolling her eyes. “If I didn’t bother you, you wouldn’t have to say it out loud.”

“Whatever,” Ginny scoffs. “And I know you were making shit up about Dean. He isn’t touching you.”

“Not like you’re touching everyone else. Zabini, Ginevra? Really?” Romilda drawls, turning to look at her fully now.

Ginny goes cold.

“What?” she whispers.

“I saw Zabini follow you into the bathroom. And I know you cheated on Dean with him. You don’t deserve him,” Romilda snarls, taking a step closer to Ginny until they’re breathing the same air, and Ginny can’t look away from the twisted monstrous look on Romilda’s face. “You’re so greedy.”

“Shut up,” Ginny mutters, shaking her head. “You…you don’t know _ what _you're talking about.”

“Unfortunately, I know _ exactly _ what I’m talking about,” Romilda barks. She takes a step closer again, so that they’re nearly touching. “Do you want to know why I _ love _making your life miserable?”

“Because I stole your boyfriend?” Ginny hisses.

Romilda’s expression twists and she shakes her head, enraged suddenly.

“Because you’re a bad fucking _ friend! _”

Romilda moves fast and Ginny can’t dodge it in time.

The burn of Romilda’s open palm against her cheek is more humiliating than anything else. Everyone is staring.

“You fucking bitch,” Ginny whispers.

And then, Ginny’s vision goes red. She doesn’t know that she has a fist in Romilda’s hair, holding her steady, until she does. When she comes to again, Romilda nails her in the stomach with a punch and Ginny shoves her so hard that Romilda crashes into the neighboring table. Their scuffle turns into a brawl as Colin Creevey launches himself into the mix, attempting to put his hands on Ginny. Ron intercepts, grabbing the younger boy by the collar and yanking so hard that Colin falls to the ground.

Yacine, Romilda’s friend—_ one of Ginny’s oldest friends _—, elbows Ginny hard in the chest as Romilda struggles to stand, and then, Luna jumps onto the girl’s back, bringing her down as she wraps her long pale legs around the other girl’s waist. Everything moves like through molasses and Ginny’s gaze sharpens as she meets Romilda’s stare again.

And then Romilda pulls her wand. “_Anteoculatia!_”

Ginny barely has a chance to dodge, but suddenly, she doesn’t have to, because Harry is there, slashing his wand to bat Romilda’s spell away. Ginny gasps—he moved so fast—and Romilda looks just as troubled. Romilda recovers faster because she throws another hex their way. Harry deflects it again, and then, Lavender is there, wrenching Romilda’s wand out of her hand.

“This is none of your business, Brown,” Stella sneers.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Leave my friend _ alone_,” Lavender barks, and she punctuates her declaration by decking the girl in the face.

Romilda stumbles, eyes wide. It’s the two of them—Romilda and Ginny—in the center of a brawl.

Everyone is screaming and spells are flying, but neither girl can move, because they know this is about them. This isn’t even about Dean. This is about them more than anything else.

“I don’t need a wand for this,” Romilda hisses and then, she throws herself into the fervor again.

Ginny tastes the blood before she feels the stinging of her bottom lip. Before she can throw herself at Romilda, Ginny catches a stray elbow in her eye and she stumbles back into Harry. Harry catches her and pulls her back just as Creevey seems to have had enough of Ron’s onslaught of jinxes. He grabs Romilda around the waste and wrenches her back.

The pub is a mess, tables knocked over and students pressed against the wall.

“GET OUT OF ME PUB!” Rosmerta shrieks. “I SHOULD CALL THE AURORS ON YOU LOT! STUDENTS—”

But, Romilda is louder.

“_YOU’RE A SLUT, GINNY WEASLEY_!” Romilda roars as Colin Creevey lifts her from her middle. She’s staring at Ginny with actual hatred, burning with it, and underneath it, all the hurt in the world. “You’re a _ slut_. You’re not content, stealing just my man. You have to get on other guys’ dicks too for validation that you’re your own person because you don’t know what that means!”

Ginny crumples in Ron’s arms, her eyes wide and she shakes her head, looking around at all of the other students that are watching them, spectators to the mess of Ginny’s life. Ginny won’t let them see her weak. She shakes Ron off and stands tall, glaring across the bar at Romilda.

“Fuck you, Romilda.”

“Why?” she spits. “You’ve already _ fucked _ everyone else. _ Including _Blaise Zabini at that Slytherin party.”

The entire pub falls utterly silent.

And before Ginny can reply, the Three Broomsticks’ door slams open.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”

Professor McGonagall has arrived.


	35. WEDNESDAY, 12:03 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny thinks about her motherfucking actions
> 
> ~*~
> 
> I get it how I live it  
I live it how I get it  
Count the mothafuckin' digits  
I pull up with a lemon  
Not 'cause she ain't livin'  
It's just your eyes get acidic  
And this here ain't a scrimmage
> 
> -Lemon, N.E.R.D.

Ginny pulls her knees up to her chest and stares at nothing. Luna and Lavender are whispering to one another. Ron, Hermione, and Harry are sequestered in the opposite corner of the empty classroom, tossing Ginny concerned looks. She ignores them all in favor of just staring, because her head is absolutely pounding, and it’s just past midnight and she’s fucking _ exhausted. _

Hermione mutters something, and Ginny hears her name in her mouth. Harry pulls away from them and shuffles closer, looking uncertain.

“Ginny? Ginny, are you okay?” Harry asks softly.

Ginny jerks and looks up at him. “Huh? Yeah, I’m okay,” she mumbles, even though she _ knows _that she’s not okay. She sags in her seat, dropping her face into her hand and then curses as she applies pressure to her bruised eye.

Harry tuts at her, tugging her hands away and lifting her chin. “Are you okay?” he mumbles again, but this time he’s talking about the pain. He sighs, shaking his head. “Your lip split again. What’s the incantation, Hermione?”

“_ Episkey_,” she calls.

Harry nods and pulls his wand, pressing to her fat bottom lip. “_ Episkey_,” he mumbles.

Ginny feels her lip knit together clumsily and knows it won’t hold from the way she keeps gnawing at her flesh nervously. Even still, she manages a “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Harry says firmly.

She’s not sure if he’s talking about fighting or Healing, but she takes it for what it is and smiles, weakly.

“I can’t believe we’re being locked up in separate rooms. Like we’re baseless animals,” Hermione declares to the room at large.

Lavender and Luna look up from their conversation. Lavender looks wild, her golden hair mussed and tangled from hair-pulling and dodging hexes and jinxes. She had been the one of the first to jump into the fight besides Ginny, yanking Romilda to the ground without fear. Ginny owes her more now than ever. Lavender, for all her supposed vapidness, is the most loyal girl Ginny has ever met.

“Well, aren’t we?” Lavender giggles. “We just got into a fistfight. As if we were Muggles.”

Luna joins her in her laughter and even Hermione’s lips twitch.

“_You _were in a fistfight. I was practically outright duelling Colin fucking Creevey,” Ron scoffs, shaking his head. “Stupid little brat.”

Ginny snorts because there’s no descriptor that really serves Colin Creevey well like ‘stupid little brat’. Her snort seems to inspire a chain reaction because Ron starts to chuckle under his breath and even Luna and Lavender burst into giggles. Harry and Hermione exchange a grin, and suddenly, they’re all cackling.

They’re laughing together, in disbelief, in awe, in wonder, of that horrible _ fucking _ night that they’re having. A night where they got into an actual _ fight _ with a bunch of kids over a fucking _ boy_.

The door slams open and their laughter tapers off as they turn to see which professor has come to seal their end.

Ginny blanches.

_ Speaking of that boy_.

Dean lingers in the doorway, breathing hard. He looks behind him, like he expects a professor to appear just behind him, and then he slams the door shut to take away that possibility from before. He looks around the room, cataloging all of their injuries before he looks straight at Ginny. Ginny holds her breath—does he?

The hurt in his _ eyes_.

He does.

He _ knows_.

“Dean—” Ginny starts.

Dean throws one hand up, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I…I can’t…Ginny, _ why _?”

Ginny swallows. It’s a broad question that she doesn’t have an answer to.

“Dean, I’m _ sorry_,” she says, her voice cracking.

Dean shakes his head again. “I don’t know…” he trails off, like he can’t believe anything and everything. And then, his hands ball up into fists and he glares at Ginny. “I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that you _ cheated _ on me or the fact that _ Millie _ had to be the one to _ tell _me or the fact that—”

Ginny gets to her feet. “See! You still call her Millie!”

“I’M NOT FUCKING HER, GINNY!” Dean roars, and Lavender jumps, but Ginny doesn’t. She takes a step forward, glowering at him. “YOU’RE FUCKING UNBELIEVABLE—”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop having a go at my sister!” Ron snarls, getting to his feet, and he’s the tallest in the room and using it to his advantage. Dean takes took a step back before he steps forward, sizing Ron up.

“How about you mind your business, _ mate_,” Dean hisses.

“Guess what, _ mate_? Ginny _ is _my business—” Ron starts, and he pulls his wand at the same moment that Dean does.

“Stop _ fighting _ !” Hermione shouts, before Ginny can, and the pair seem to remember themselves, looking around the room. Hermione stands from her perch and approaches the two. She drops her hand on Ginny’s shoulder, and it’s both reassuring and grounding. “Now, we’re already in trouble for that. _ Dean_, it’s past curfew—”

“That clearly didn’t matter to _ Ginny_,” Dean sneers at her.

Ginny stares back, refusing to flinch.

“Maybe. But, it matters to _ you_. So unless you also want detention, off to bed with you,” Hermione says firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

With one more sour look thrown at Ginny, Dean turns on his heel and disappears just as quickly as he came. Ginny sags under the weight of Hermione’s hand and Hermione reels her in until Ginny’s forehead is tucked tight against her shoulder.

“Fuck,” Ginny breathes.

“It’s alright. You’re alright,” Hermione murmurs into her hair.

Ron lets out a long, heavy sigh and Ginny hears him collapse back into his chair. “This is a mess,” Ron says sharply. “How did McGonagall even know we were down there?”

“Isn’t it good that she did?” Luna asks sweetly. “It could’ve been worse.”

“_How _ could it have been worse?” Lavender drawls. “We snuck out after curfew; we were drinking _ profusely,_ and we had a barfight-slash-_duel_.”

“Someone could’ve been seriously hurt. Or killed,” Harry says firmly.

That seems to somber the tone quite a bit. Hermione holds Ginny tighter at Harry’s words. Ginny tucks her head in the crook of Hermione’s neck and clings to her cloak.

“_I _called Professor McGonagall,” Hermione declares. Ginny stiffens and pulls away, looking up at her. But, Hermione is staring at Harry. “I was the prefect. I should’ve stopped it, and when I couldn’t, I called Professor McGonagall.”

“_Really, _Hermione?” Ron snarls. He shakes his head.

“What was I supposed to do?” Hermione retorts. “We could’ve been _ killed_, like Harry said. Or _ worse _—expelled.”

Lavender gasps. “Do you really…do you think we’ll be _ expelled _?”

There’s a long moment where the very _ idea _lingers over the group like a specter. Ginny shakes her head, practically trembling.

Expulsion means no wand. No magic. No brooms.

_ No Quidditch_.

No Holyhead Harpies. No dreams. No victory. No _ anything_.

Before anyone can say that it’s not true—it can’t _ possibly be true _ —the door flies open again and an owl swoops in, carrying a damningly crimson letter. The owl—it’s _ Errol _—crashes into the nearby desk, the desk right next to Harry, rights itself before Harry can assist and this Errol is off again, probably back to the Burrow.

“Is that…” Harry murmurs and then he throws himself away from his seat as the Howler comes to life, floating off the table.

“_ RONALD AND GINEVRA WEASLEY!” _ the Howler begins, Mum’s shrieking voice _ booming _ through the abandoned classroom. “_HOW DARE YOU SNEAK OUT AFTER CURFEW? DUELLING IN A PUB AT MIDNIGHT? AND NOW, YOUR FATHER AND I ARE ON OUR WAY AT THIS VERY MOMENT. IF YOU STEP ONE TOE OF OUT OF LINE BETWEEN THE MOMENT YOU HEAR THIS AND THE MOMENT WE ARRIVE, WE’LL SNAP YOUR WANDS OURSELVES!” _

And then, the Howler bursts into flames. Ron whimpers.

“Oh, _ no_,” Hermione breathes.

“W-what? What is it?” Lavender asks in a hushed voice.

Hermione shakes her head. “_That’s _ why we’re waiting here. Our _ parents _are coming.”


	36. WEDNESDAY, 1:17 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which consequences happen.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> We've gone way too fast for way too long  
And we were never supposed to make it half this far  
And I lived so much life, lived so much life  
I think that God is gonna have to kill me twice  
Kill me twice like my name was Nikki Sixx  
I woke up in my shoes again but somewhere you exist, singing
> 
> -Young And Menace, Fall Out Boy

The first time Ginny Weasley meets _ the _Sirius Black, it’s not one of her finer moments. She’s still sporting a split lip, though her black eye is caked in thick yellow bruise removal paste. She’s tucked into Luna’s side with Harry on her other. Sirius dances into Professor Dumbledore’s study, looking rather well-dressed for it being something like two o’ clock in the morning. His partner looks decidedly less put together. Professor Lupin looks both exhausted and quietly furious.

Sirius cuts through the crowd of parents, going right up to the Headmaster’s desk, where Flitwick and McGonagall flank the Headmaster. The two professors look at both groups of students with disgust and disappointment.

“So, what’s this about, Minnie, Albus?” Sirius drawls, paying no mind to the other parents in the room. Sirius drops a hand onto Harry’s shoulder and looks down at him. “A prank gone wrong?”

Harry swallows, shaking his head. “No,” he whispers. “A fight.”

Sirius stiffens, his gaze sharpening from something playful into the steel of a knife. “About what?”

“Does it matter?” Ginny’s mum snaps. Her father leans forward, whispers something in Mum’s ear, but Mum shrugs him off. “My Ginny and Ron never got into fights!”

“My kid doesn’t _ fight_. If he did, there’s a good reason for it,” Sirius says, voice chilly and careful. He turned back to Harry and looks down at him. “So, what was the reason, kiddo?”

Professor Lupin sighs, “Sirius—”

“To defend a friend,” Harry says carefully.

Ginny leans forward, unable to help herself. “And he was trying to end the fight. Not participate. This is—”

“Ginny, don’t you say another word. I won’t hear _ any _of it!” Mum says, her voice trembling with fury. She turns to McGonagall and Dumbledore and then to the other side of the room where Romilda’s parents and the others are. Romila’s parents are clearly Muggles, but they don’t seem uncomfortable at Hogwarts. Just angry to be Summoned in the middle of the night. “So, how is this being handled?”

It seems to launch a series of questions.

“How exactly is _ my _Luna involved?” Xenophilius Lovegood asks.

“And Hermione? What were you thinking? She’s a prefect. This won’t affect her status, will it?” one of the Doctors Granger asks. Hermione pales at the very thought, like it never occurred to her that she might lose her position at prefect.

Ginny’s stomach sinks deeper.

“My boy is a prefect too!” Mum chimes in.

And then, there’s a rush of questions, a cacophony of angry parents only growing angrier.

“My Stella would never—”

“Millie, dear, she’s never _ ever _gotten into a fight—”

“Ginny is a bright student. There must be a misunderstanding!”

“My kid doesn’t _ fight _!”

“—it must be that _ Ginny _girl’s fault!”

And it is.

It’s all Ginny’s _ fault_.

Romilda looks up, grinning hard enough that her bottom lip splits open again and a tiny stream of blood goes down to the point of her chin. “I hit her first,” she admits.

Ginny freezes.

“What was that, Miss Vane?” Professor Dumbledore asks.

Romilda’s mum looks horrified. “No, Millie, you—”

“And I’d do it again. She’s a backstabbing, lying, boyfriend-stealing bitch,” Romilda hissed.

“Fifteen points from Gryffindor!” McGonagall cries out, appalled by Romilda’s language, but that’s all anyone says.

Everyone sits in silence, staring at Professor Dumbledore’s desk as he surveys them with knowing, blue eyes.

“You should all be _ expelled_,” McGonagall says through clenched teeth.

Ginny’s heart stops.

The sound of her own breathing is drowned out by the cries of protest. And even with all that’s happened, her Mum and Dad still go to bat for her, clutching both her and Ron as they protest the very idea that Ginny and Ron would be expelled. Sirius is second in volume to her mother, shouting out complaining " '_Minnie, is it that serious'" _s. Ginny looks to her right at Romilda.

Romilda looks right back at her.

“I said ‘should’,” McGonagall interrupted, her voice cutting through the din. “The Headmaster has other ideas.”

Finally, Dumbledore leans forward, looking between Romilda and Ginny, having zeroed in on the two of them as the center of the scuffle. Ginny squirms under the gaze and swallows hard as Dumbledore’s lips tilt into a small, sad smile.

“Oh to be young, and feel love’s keen sting,” Dumbledore says softly. Ginny winces, sliding lower in her seat. Dumbledore’s smile disappears just as sudden as it had appeared. “You were caught breaking curfew. You _ also _broke several rules surrounding violence against your fellow student. These are severe actions that warrant severe consequences.”

“Albus—” Sirius begins.

Dumbledore holds up a hand. “But, as far as I know, this is the first time that you have all broken any rules. Correct?”

“As far as we _ know_,” McGonagall reiterated, her sharp eyes searching each of their faces. “The _ parties_—”

Hermione inhales sharply.

“Ah, but we haven’t seen any of _ these _students,” Dumbledore corrects. “And Miss Granger did the right thing, calling you, did she not? What would have occurred if she hadn’t used her quick mind?”

Hermione squirms in embarrassment. McGonagall’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, but even she looks a little more thoughtful than just moments ago. She looks down at Flitwick, but he seems to be speaking softly to both Luna and her father.

“Very well,” McGonagall allows.

“I have decided that your Head of Houses will deal out the punishment that they believe is necessary for you to _ learn _from this experience,” Dumbledore warns with narrowed gazes to each of them. “I am afraid that I will not be able to be lenient a second time around.”

McGonagall scoffs as she looks at the lot of them.

“Lenient,” she mutters. “I shall not be so. Twenty points from each one of you in my house.”

“Professor!” Ron practically wails.

Ginny winces. There are _ eight _ Gryffindors involved. 160 points _ gone_.

“Ronald Bilius,” Dad thunders and Ginny presses her hand over her eyes. Dad is _ angry_.

“Hush,” Mum snarls in Ron’s ear. She leans over both Ginny and Ron’s heads, using their shoulders to hold herself up. “Anything you believe will _ teach _them, Minerva.”

McGonagall nods. “Yes. Saturday evening detentions until I decide _ otherwise_. Miss Granger, as you alerted me to what was happening and had no part besides breaking curfew, you will serve two of these detentions. Mr. Weasley, I shall be watching you _ closely _ to see if that prefect badge is _ deserved_,” McGonagall warns, and Ron is cowed under her fierce stare, nodding weakly.

Remus sighs, looking down at his godson. “Is that all?”

“No,” McGonagall snaps. “And suspension from the next Quidditch game.”

At _ this_, Harry snaps.

“You can’t! Professor!” Harry protests, standing to his feet.

Sirius looks like he’s being tortured. “Minnie, _ no _—”

“This pains me as much as you, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall declares, severely, and she's grimacing, as if it hurts to say. “We’ll need to _ forfeit _.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, that’s not _ fair_. We’re not the only people on the team—”

“You should’ve considered that before partaking in a nighttime _ duel _ !” McGonagall retorts and Harry groans, looking away. “And as _ Captain _.”

Flitwick steps away from Luna and her father. “Miss Lovegood will join you in detention for the time being,” Flitwick decides.

He’s gone soft on her, and Ginny isn’t surprised. McGonagall’s just a _ hardass_.

“Okay,” Ginny whispers.

McGonagall nods as she looks down at her. And for now, at least, Ginny knows that McGonagall has forgiven her. _ Sorta_.

She isn’t sure about everyone else just yet.

“Now, off to bed. The lot of you. Tell your parents your goodbyes, and then we will escort you back to your respective dormitories, as you can’t be trusted to _ stay there_,” McGonagall says coldly. Ginny cringes as the solemnity cracks open and Ron and Ginny are ushered out of the Headmaster’s office by their parents.

Hermione and her parents follow, along with Lavender and her mum, Harry and his godparents, and Luna and her father. They spill out into the corridor after going down the spiral steps, and almost immediately, even as Mum tries to drag Ginny away, Ginny reaches for them.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck—” Ginny gasps, ignoring her mother’s snarl at her language. “I’m so bloody sorry.”

The others falter, staring at her in disbelief.

“Well, I’m not,” Lavender declares into the silence. “None of us are. We’d do it again. We’re the fucking Ginny Weasley Defence Squad. No one gets to mess with you. With any of us.”

And then, before anyone can say anything else, Mum pulls Ginny off, away from Ron and Dad where Ron cringes underneath his father’s lecture. Mum glares down at Ginny.

“I thought you were _ friends _ with Romilda,” Mum declares. “I thought she was a bad influence, but it seems your new friends are—Ron _ included_. Sneaking off after curfew, getting into fights—”

And there’s so much that Ginny has wanted to tell her Mum. So much that she’s hidden in between the words of her letters. There’s Dean and there’s Romilda and there’s the name-calling. There’s so much, and Ginny feels like she’s going to burst at the seams with all of it.

“Romilda...I…_ Mum_,” Ginny sobs.

And then, she collapses into her mother’s arms, and weeps.


	37. THURSDAY, 8:09AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny joins her own Defence squad.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> I'ma do just what I want on the regular  
And it's really not my fault if you're scared of a  
Sweet little unforgettable thing, unforgettable  
Sweet little unforgettable thing, so incredible  
Know that I'm not sorry, I'm just loving my body  
I don't care if you scared of a sweet little unforgettable thing
> 
> S.L.U.T, Bea Miller

“Everybody knows,” Lavender mutters.

Into the silence, her whisper sounds like a booming shout, amplified by an ill-placed _ Sonorous_. Ginny cringes under the weight of everyone’s stares, and then, she feels a hand pressed against her lower back. She looks over at Harry.

He stands tall under all of the eyes.

He must be used to it by now.

“Who cares if they know?” Harry says, just loud enough to make some people look away.

He powers forward with Luna and Hermione on either side of him to the last few seats at the end of the Gryffindor table. He sits down, and Ginny, Ron, and Lavender follow after him. They’re allowed a wide berth from the rest of the Gryffindors. Ginny doesn’t mind it, now that she has friends.

“But, now, it’s been a day. The story has _ spread_,” Lavender insists.

“And spread wrong,” Hermione continued, indignation curling her upper lip. “Astoria Greengrass announced during break that the Aurors had to come and break us up.”

“The only Auror present was my ex-Auror godfather,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. He starts to make his plate, nibbling on a piece of bacon before he points it across the table at Ginny. “Ignore it all.”

“Like you always do that, Harry,” Ron says, already shoveling eggs and breakfast potatoes smothered in ketchup down his throat. “_You _get angry.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “I haven’t had anything to be angry about lately!”

“Yeah, well,” Ron snorts, shaking his head.

Ginny smiles into her food. “Yeah…I’m not all that angry. Have you heard anything even more ridiculous than what Greengrass said?”

“Ernie Macmillan says that Lisa Turpin said that Ginny cast an Unforgivable at Romilda Vane after Romilda accused Ginny of Imperiusing Dean,” Luna says, lazily. She’s stirring her bowl of porridge, unaware of the alarmed stares she’s getting for a few moments. She looks up and a sweet giggle escapes her lips. “Well…no one _ believed _him.”

“I should hope not!” Hermione says firmly. “Honestly, have people nothing better to do?”

“Than gossip?” Lavender asks. “I suppose this is news to you, Mione, but people find school quite boring. What else is there to do other than gossip?”

Hermione leans forward and she hisses from clenched teeth, “_Studying.”_

“I think you’re missing the point,” Ron says, pointing at her with his fork.

“They don’t want to study, habibi,” Harry says with a shrug. “So, they gossip and make up stories about us.”

“How childish,” Hermione sniffs, shaking her head. She huffs as she looks around, shooting an evil glare at everyone that even dares to look their way. Ginny’s washed with a rush of affection.

“We’re really not that interesting,” Ron says loudly enough that anyone who’s watching them immediately diverts their gazes, as if he’s talking about that person in particular. “Especially not you, Ginny.”

“Ha, fuck off, Ronald Bilius.”

“_Bilius_?” Lavender drawls in disbelieving amusement.

Ron’s cheeks burn red. “It’s a family name, okay!”

Harry snorts. “Did Mrs. Weasley hate you?”

“I think they’d just had so many sons, they were running out of options,” Ginny says with a shrug. She nudges Ron in the side to make sure that he knows that she’s joking. Before Ron can do more than shove her back playfully, she hears the coo of an owl and something lands in front of her plate.

Ginny barely registers the familiar crimson of a Howler before it bursts into flames.

“_GINNY WEASLEY IS A SLUT!_” it shrieks, the voice too monstrous and distorted to be clearly identified. The rest of the Houses fall silent, all turning to look at Ginny. “ _ A BOYFRIEND-STEALING LYING CHEATING BITCH! GINNY WEASLEY IS A SLUT! A BOYFRIEND-STEALING LYING CHEATING—” _

And then a quiet voice whispers, “_ Reducto _.”

Ginny throws herself back at the Howler explodes and the shrieking voice falls silent. Only a quiet fire burns in front of her now and a pile of ash. She looks over the table, horrified. Harry stares back at her, a grim expression on his face.

The fire is extinguished and Ginny looks up to see McGonagall’s expression. She looks enraged.

The Scottish woman sweeps down from the professors’ table, exchanging one more look with Dumbledore who looks far from enchanted.

“Whoever sent this…” McGonagall begins in her dire brogue, “shall be facing the most _ severe _of punishments.”

“And they won’t?” someone asks. “They were caught duelling—”

“And have been punished appropriately,” McGonagall snaps. “Fifteen points from you, Mr. Finnegan.”

Figures that it’s _ Seamus _ speaking.

McGonagall turns back to Ginny and waves her wand, Summoning the ashes and Conjuring a vial to put them in. “We will be investigating the sender, _ immediately_,” McGonagall finishes, looking each possible perpetrator in the eye before sweeping away, though not after a pitiful look shot Ginny’s way.

Ginny sits woodenly, staring at where a tiny ash mote remains.

The Great Hall bursts into whispers again.

“I want to know who the _ fuck _that was,” Ron snarls, trembling with suppressed fury.

Hermione’s eyes narrow. “The moment I find out, I swear, I’ll give them detention myself until the _ end _of time.”

Ginny shakes her head, staring down at her hands.

_ —it’s true _…

..._ Ginny Weasley...Chaser...slut… _

_ Cheater. _

“—cheated on my mate! She did!”

Seamus is _ still _fucking speaking, and the people around him aren’t the only ones to hear it.

Lavender and Ron rise to the occasion, but Ginny presses her hand hard into Ron’s shoulder, knocking him back into his seat. Ginny stands instead, narrowing her eyes at the rest of Gryffindor, at the rest of Hogwarts, even.

“I don’t give a damn _ who _ sent that,” Ginny declares. From the corner of her eye, she sees Snape rearing up, ready to take points away, but one look from McGonagall keeps him in his seat. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is you tossing around words like that: slut, slag, _ whore _ . Like it’s any of your Merlin-be-damned _ business._”

Ron flushes at the words leaving her mouth, but she doesn’t care. She makes eye contact with each and every person that she caught laughing.

She saves Romilda for last.

“I didn’t steal your boyfriend. You can’t steal a person,” Ginny snarls, staring at Romilda. She leans forward, over the table so that she can stare Romilda, squarely in the eye. “And I’m not a _ slut _ for doing what I want with my body. That’s no one’s business except mine and my partner’s. My _ life _ is not for your public consumption _ or _for you to put your own shame. Get over yourselves.”

She leverages over the bench that she’s sitting at and Lavender beams right back at her. Ginny nods back. Luna stands too and loops her arm through Ginny’s.

As they walk out, Ginny hears Snape, “Will you let her get away with disrupting the peace like _ this _?”

And she hears McGonagall’s response: “I think she’s doing just fine for herself. Very Gryffindor.”

Ginny grins.


	38. SATURDAY, 10:34AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Harry is asked on a date.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "Ooh whoa, ooh whoa, ooh whoa  
You know you love me, I know you care  
Just shout whenever and I'll be there  
You are my love, you are my heart  
And we will never, ever, ever be apart"
> 
> -Baby, Justin Bieber

“Don’t you feel…kinda bad, missing practice?” Ginny asks as they trudge down from Hogwarts Castle. It’s early, around the time when Ginny would be pulling on her Quidditch leathers. Instead, she’s carrying a picnic basket in the crook of her arm, and Harry’s walking at her side, a blanket tossed over his shoulders and a canvas bag in his hand.

“The team deserves a break,” Harry says.

Ginny snorts. “You just don’t want to see them again because we’re not allowed to play in the next two games.”

“There’s also that. Bloody hell,” Harry mutters. Katie Bell had practically reamed him over Breakfast on Wednesday morning. It wasn’t a pretty sight. “They’ll get over it.”

“And it’s just _ us _that can’t play. Make Katie the temporary captain and train reserves,” Ginny says.

Harry shakes his head. “A reserve Seeker, Chaser, _ and _a Keeper. Where are we going to find one of each, then?” Harry challenges.

Ginny grimaces. “Well…there’s always McLaggen.”

“Merlin strike me,” Harry deadpans, shaking his head. Ginny snickers under her breath and Harry smirks, elbowing Ginny in the side as they finally get to the lakeside. Harry spreads the blanket across the grass, and then bows. “My lady.”

“Oh, shut _ up_,” Ginny jeers as she throws herself onto the blanket and Harry collapses next to her. Her smile softens. “Thanks for…this. I love the group, but—”

“It’s a bit much,” Harry finishes. “Trust me, I _ know_. Anyway, you need a little special alone time, I think. And Lavender is loud, and Luna is in the sky, Hermione’s too logical, and your brother’s...your _ brother_. So, it’s up to me.”

It doesn’t sound like it’s a chore for him at all.

Harry sets aside his canvas bag, making a soft sound when he pulls out a wireless radio and sets it down on the corner of the blanket. He taps it with his wand, and Spellbound’s latest cookie-cutter pop song rings out. Ginny takes it in like white noise as she looks through the picnic basket that Dobby had made for the pair of them.

It’s like he was trying to feed an army, because he’s put together at least six breakfast sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice enough for at least three people. Ginny passes Harry a sandwich and sighs as she takes a bite into hers.

The bread is _ perfectly _buttered.

“Have you still not spoken to Dean?” Harry asks, staring off at the lake. There’s some movement and Ginny leans forward, curious if she’s going to get to see the Giant Squid.

It doesn’t break the surface, and she collapses back, disappointed.

“No. He hasn’t even looked at me. It’s safe to say that we’re done,” Ginny sighs, staring up at the sky.

Harry hums. “Well, he’s being a bit of a berk about this, anyway,” Harry declares loyally, even if he’s wrong.

Ginny fucked up. Dean hasn’t been perfect, definitely not, but Ginny is _ far _from perfect too.

“How angry were your parents?” Ginny asks. “My mum was _ raging, _but after I explained a little, she calmed down. With Ron, too, when she learned he was defending me.”

Harry purses his lips. “My _ god _parents were…they weren’t angry,” Harry says. Ginny doesn’t miss the emphasis. “Sirius was fine. He thought it was a little funny, and then, a lot less funny when I told them what had been going on. He wanted to go back and fight for that girl to be expelled for tormenting you, but Remus had to remind him that wasn’t his place. Remus was more angry about…the Marauder’s Map.”

Ginny blanches. “How does _ he _know about the Marauder’s Map?” she demands.

“Well, remember when I said I called him ‘Moony’?” Harry asks. He leans forward. “_ Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_. Padfoot and Moony are Sirius and Remus. My dad was Prongs.”

He doesn’t have to say who Wormtail is.

Ginny remembers the papers.

“Seriously? Professor Lupin made the Marauder’s Map?” she breathes.

Harry nods. “Yeah. It’s…it’s supposed to be for harmless pranks. But, he thinks that my use of it has been ‘irresponsible and subject to future analysis’. It means that I’m grounded. For _ now _,” Harry says with a roll of his eyes.

Ginny groans. “So…no more parties?”

Harry sniffs.

“I didn’t say that. We’ll do it the old fashioned way,” Harry says with a sly smile, and sometimes, Ginny thinks that rule-breaking Harry Potter belongs in Slytherin. “I know…I know you feel like shit. Okay.”

“Yeah?” Ginny drawls, because she _ doesn’t _want to remember why she feels like fucking shite.

Harry winces. “So, whenever I feel like shit...I listen to this..._ ugh _.”

Ginny raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching. “Yeah?”

“Okay…you can’t make fun of me,” Harry prefaces. He’s trying to hide his smile as he turns to the wireless. He hesitates again and then cringes as he taps his wand.

Ginny gapes as that _ song _ starts, a jazzy little swing number that her family absolutely adores.

In time with Celestina Warbeck’s crooning voice, Harry starts, “_I’ve got a cauldron full of hot, strong love and it’s bubbling for you!_”

He doesn’t have a very good voice. It’s not soulful, almost a bit whingy. But, it’s _ hilarious_.

Ginny cackles, throwing her head back and Harry groans.

“You know the _ words _—”

“_Say _ Incendio, _ but that spell’s not hot as my special witch’s brew!_” Harry continues. He looks over at her, both alarmed and pleased with her sudden change in mood. He leans forward to belt the next line in her face.

Ginny gets there before him: “_Don’t you be afraid, come and take a sip of this steamy, tasty treat!_”

And together, they practically squeal, “_What’s in my cauldron full of hot, strong love will make your life complete!” _

They’re getting odd looks from the other people on the lakeside, but neither can bring themselves to care. Ginny can’t care because she’s spent the past few days _ caring_, and she’s just so tired because Romilda won’t stop staring at her in triumph, and Dean won’t look at her at all, and everyone else watches her like they know the intimates of her fucking sex life and take pleasure in watching her crash and burn.

Ginny doesn’t _ care_, because she’s at the lake with someone that she would consider her best friend and they’re fucking singing _ A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love_, like that’s not utterly embarrassing.

“What fine singers the both of you are.” The voice is equally familiar as it is unfamiliar.

Harry stiffens, and he doesn’t look up just yet. He taps the wireless, shutting the music off abruptly. He opens his mouth, as if to defend himself, and then, his expression changes.

Everything shifts. He straightens and turns, his warm green eyes suddenly sharp like sea glass. His lips pull back into a sneer fit for a Slytherin. Ginny practically shivers as she feels the temperature around them drop a few degrees and it has nothing to do with the lake they sit by. Ginny stares up at Tom Marvolo Riddle. He doesn’t seem to notice the change in atmosphere, still relaxed and charming, like he hadn’t just destroyed their friend.

“Did you need something, Tommy?” Harry asks, each word biting.

Ginny snorts into her hand. _Tommy_.

“Just Tom,” Riddle corrects.

Harry snorts. “Whatever,” he drawls before turning, very purposefully putting his back to the Head Boy.

Ginny grins over at Harry, dips her head forward, and then she jerks back, startled. Riddle strides forward, all confidence and sits down at the edge of their picnic blanket, right next to Harry. Harry stiffens, sensing the heat of the other boy at his side. Harry gives Ginny a long-suffering look before he twists on the blanket to regard Riddle with cold eyes.

“You don’t seem to like me,” Riddle drawls.

Harry scoffs. “I don’t. I think you’re a spoiled boy that uses his money and connections and name as an excuse for cruelty.”

Riddle rears back, putting his hand to his chest. “That was _ mean_,” he says, licking the word like he likes how mean Harry is being. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

“We should go for a drink at the Three Broomsticks,” Riddle says. “You can get to know me more.”

He isn’t asking. That’s very clear.

Harry snorts.

“Really? You think _ so _?” Harry asks.

“I do.”

“Well, you’re wrong, Tommy,” Harry sighs, giving him that same beatific smile that he had always awarded to anyone he didn’t like, edged with something awkwardly sharp like rage.

“Tom,” Riddle says again.

Harry snorts. “Well, I think that’s your answer right there. I find you so uninteresting, I don’t even remember your name. _ Tommy _,” Harry finishes for emphasis.

“That’s a shame,” Riddle murmurs. His lips are curled into a razor-sharp smirk. “Is there _ anything _ I can do to change your mind?”

Harry leans back on his hands. “Can you count, Tommy?”

“I can. Up to seven, even,” Riddle says. He looks _ delighted_.

“Well, don't. Count on it, I mean,” Harry sighs, staring up at the sky, but there’s something that says that he’s satisfied with his words, the savagery of them.

Riddle barks out an honest to Merlin laugh. “Okay,” he says. He reaches forward, tapping Harry on the forehead with his book, and Harry jumps, turning to look at him, appalled. Riddle’s smirk curls wider into a grin and he stands up, unfolding his long body until he towers over the two of them. “Harry, you should know that I don’t take no for an answer very well.”

“It’s about time you learn,” Harry snarls.

Riddle stares at him for a long time. And then, he says, soft and covetous, “I’ll see you later, Harry.”

He turns away, stealing the last word.

Ginny has the pleasure of seeing Harry turn bright red in frustration and something _ else_. They sit in silence and Harry stares at the lake very carefully until his flush goes away. He turns to look at Ginny with a sharp look.

“What?” he snaps.

Ginny cackles and lifts her hands in surrender. “Nothing. Just—”

“Nothing, that’s it. Just...it was nothing,” Harry whispers.

They lean back on their hands and listen to the wireless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all.
> 
> I'm just SO excited for "euphoria". It's going to be so fun. Unlike "cherry bomb" which I had completely pre-written, I have not finished writing "euphoria", so I'm slowly discovering great things about it, and shifting the SKAM storylines a lot for Hogwarts storylines, so it'll make "miseducation" the most different yet!
> 
> Anyway, yes, the seeds have been planted!


	39. SATURDAY, 9:45PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Dean talks.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "You used to call me on my, you used to, you used to  
You used to call me on my cell phone  
Late night when you need my love  
Call me on my cell phone  
Late night when you need my love  
I know when that hotline bling  
That can only mean one thing  
I know when that hotline bling  
That can only mean one thing"
> 
> Hotline Bling, Drake (As covered by Christiana Danielle)

“That wasn’t too bad. Just lines,” Hermione says with the uncertainty of someone that has never had a detention in her life.

“It was rather boring,” Luna says sweetly.

Hermione snorts. “I imagine that was the point, Luna.”

Luna sighs, shaking her head as she trudged up the stairs past Ginny and Ron, rubbing her eyes. She nearly stumbles but Harry and Lavender catch her on either side, righting her. Luna blinks at them sleepily and smiles.

“Thanks,” she says through a yawn. “I should go. I’m quite tired.”

“I thought you said you slept in until noon, Luna,” Ron says, sounding almost jealous.

“I _ did_,” Luna responds before she skips up the opposite stairs, where they split ways as she heads to the North Tower and the Gryffindors continue towards the forever waiting Gryffindor Tower.

Ginny looks over at Hermione. “You’re so _ lucky_. Only two of those boring detentions.”

“We don’t know if it’ll always just be lines,” Harry says. He continues up the stairs, and even he’s moving at a slower pace, his mind probably turned to mush after writing _ ‘I will not duel in pubs like common criminals’ _ over and over again.

McGonagall really wanted to drive the message in, and had promised that next week’s lines were ‘_ I will not break curfew in a mission to become drunken fools’. _She had directed that one to Ron, who had been drunker than the rest of them.

“I just want to say that no one _ else _ that was in that pub got detention. I fully saw Lisa Turpin wandering on, telling everyone about what happened, but _ nothing _about getting in trouble for helping Rosmerta behind the bar,” Ginny provides.

Lavender lets out a loud huff of agreement. “Yes! We were only doing the proper Gryffindor thing—defending our friend, rather courageously,” Lavender insists.

Harry snorts, and looks over at her. “Yes, well, we were _ caught _at defending our friend, rather courageously.”

“Another Gryffindor-ish trait,” Hermione says with a wide smile.

They finally turn up the final set of stairs and they’re almost out of breath. As they reach the next landing, Ginny stumbles to a stop as she spots the trio coming up from the opposite way.

Romilda, Yacine, and Stella barely cast them a glance as they cut in front of Harry and Lavender. Lavender sneers at their backs, sticking out her tongue, and Harry stifles a laugh into the crook of his arm. Romilda whips around to glare at him, but Harry stares back, his mouth twisted in amusement. Romilda sniffs before she flounces up the steps.

“Ugh, she’s _ insufferable_. I can’t believe you were friends with her,” Ron mutters into Ginny’s ear.

Ginny smothers a laugh in her palm as they ascend up the final steps.

Romilda and her little entourage stop just short of the Fat Lady, causing congestion on the way in.

“Have you forgotten the password?” Hermione calls. Ginny wonders how she can make such a helpful and honest question drip with so much condescension. Ginny also wonders if Hermione will teach her such a thing.

Romilda steps forward. “Dean?” she says, her voice softening in a way that Ginny hasn’t heard in ages.

It makes Ginny stiffen. She goes up the stairs, practically pushing past Harry and Lavender, and _ actually _pushing past Yacine and Stella.

Dean holds the portrait hole open, staring out at the crowd of them. His gaze flits right over Romilda and falls on Ginny. Ginny feels pleasure, almost smirking, before she sees the look in his eyes. She swallows past her dread.

“Dean,” she murmurs.

Dean sighs. “Gin. Can we talk?”

Ginny nods and steps forward, ignoring the wide-eyed stare from Yacine and Stella, following Dean through the portrait hole. The rest of their company follows, but gives them a wide berth as Dean leads Ginny to the dorm stairs. He turns around, looks to Ron and Harry.

“I asked Seamus and Neville for the room, for a while. I’d like to ask the same of you two. Is that alright?” Dean asks.

Ron and Harry don’t even spare Dean a glance.

“Gin?” Ron asks.

Ginny nods. “Yeah.”

Harry lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, it’s fine, Dean,” he agrees, and then, Ginny glances at Romilda one last time, just to see the dismay on her face, before Ginny follows Dean up the stairs to what feels like utter doom.

When she walks into the dorm, her nose wrinkles because, as per usual, it smells like _ boy_, which means a horrible mix of Seamus’ aftershave and Ron’s socks. She steps over a pair of abandoned pajama pants and sits on the very edge of Dean’s bed. She expects him to join her, but instead he begins to pace in front of her.

He doesn’t say a word.

Ginny looks around; at the heavy red velvet bed hangings, at the golden wallpaper, at the hardwood floor, at Harry’s trunk. At _ anything_, really, because she can’t look at Dean. She can’t see that fucking _ look _in his eye again. Ginny glances at Dean’s bedside table. A library book.

“What are you reading?”

“Nothing…Wizarding fairytales,” Dean mutters.

Ginny is about to ask _ why_, _ those are children’s stories_, before she remembers that Dean’s children’s stories are quite different from her own.

Ginny swallows.

She’s not just a cool girl.

She’s a Gryffindor.

She’s a Weasley.

She’s fucking _ Ginny Weasley. _

She’ll own up to her fucking mistakes.

“I…it happened at the Slytherin party,” Ginny breathes. Dean pauses in his pacing, finally turning to look at her fully. “I thought…Romilda said that she was fucking you. And I was so upset, I ran into the bathroom. He followed me in there, and I just…I thought you were back with her so I kissed him.”

Dean stares at her for a long time. “So, it’s my fault?”

“No,” Ginny blurts out immediately. She shakes her head, hard enough to feel her teeth rattle in her mouth. “It isn’t your fault at all.”

Dean sighs and falls back against the wall. Ginny squirms and feels like she doesn’t belong. This is Dean’s dorm, and the few times that she’s been up there, they were happy, almost. This is the happy place, where they’re untouched by the outside world, and now, here it is. All of the outside world vomiting itself on their laps.

“This is shite, Ginny,” Dean murmurs. He looks up at her. “But…why did you cheat on me only because you thought I cheated on you?”

The question hits hard. Ginny remembers that Ron said something similar to that and it _ hurts_. It overwhelms.

“Yeah...that was shitty of me. And I am _ so _sorry,” Ginny murmurs.

“Why?” Dean asks.

And there are so many reasons that Ginny chokes on them. There’s so much that Dean didn’t get right, and things that he did, and Ginny wants to say them all, but the words are too big for her throat, and she can only stare at him. She doesn’t know what to say, so she just opens her mouth and then closes it again.

Ginny stares down at her own lap, balling her hands into fists as Dean stops his pacing and goes over to his bedside table and starts to rearrange the brush there, and the shea butter, and his book. He puts them in different orders, stares, and then pulls away, like he can’t help it. He seems to be waiting for Ginny to answer, and then, he looks at her again. He realizes that she can’t.

_ Won’t _.

“It’s not…it’s not just about the fact that you _ cheated_,” Dean says, spitting the word like a vile curse. “It’s…I told you…I can’t trust you. Because I don’t _ know _you.”

Ginny rears back like she’s been slapped. “Dean!” she protests, but she’s not sure what she’s protesting because maybe…maybe, he _ doesn’t _?

“You are not who I thought you were,” Dean murmurs. “And I…when I was with Millie, all of a sudden you wanted to be with me too. When I make a joke with my friends, you laugh. When I want to hang out with my friends, you join. Your new friends are into Slytherin boys like Riddle, and suddenly, you’re snogging Zabini. Who the _ fuck _are you, Ginny?”

_ Who are you, Ginny Weasley? _

“I don’t know who you are, Ginny,” Dean says, “And I get the feeling, neither do you.”


	40. MONDAY, 8:07AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny makes plans.

Ginny likes to think that it’s fate that makes Ginny descend the steps to meet up with Lavender and Hermione for breakfast as Dean goes down the stairs with Seamus and Neville dogging his steps.

They meet at the last landing, just before the common room, right where Hermione and Lavender are waiting for her. There’s a moment of awkwardness as the girls observe the boys and vice versa. Ginny’s fingers twitch with the urge to touch Dean. He can sense it because he takes a step back, colliding with Neville, and causing him to yelp.

“Hi...hi, Dean,” Ginny whispers, staring at him.

The last time they spoke, he’d told her that she didn’t know she was.

She knows who she _ is_.

“Ginny,” Dean says. He won’t look her in the eye. He doesn’t call her _ Gin_.

“Can we talk—” Ginny begins, and then, Seamus is shoving Dean down the stairs with Neville, turning to look at Ginny, puffing his chest up.

“He doesn’t need or want to talk to you and maybe it’s for the best,” Seamus says firmly.

“Out of line, Finnegan,” Lavender warns, glaring at Seamus.

Seamus looks surprised to be addressed, and then, his gaze flits down to Lavender’s generous chest. Hermione grinds her teeth, catching Seamus’ stare. Seamus flushes and turns back to Ginny, attempting to puff up again. He seems to quiver under the heavy stares of a trio of girls though.

“Look, I’m just looking out for my mate—”

“Were you?” Ginny barks. She narrows her eyes at him, and takes a powerful step forward. “Were you looking out for him because of _ me_?”

Seamus glares at her and nods. “You know, Ginny, I thought you were a cool girl for my mate, but you just proved me wrong—”

“You made me think I was _ crazy_, Seamus,” Ginny hisses, taking a step towards him. Seamus stumbles a step down the stairs, but rights himself as he grabs onto the bannister. Ginny ignores Hermione’s surprised look in favor of watching Seamus. “You told me that there might be something going on between Dean and Romilda. You made me doubt him. You made me doubt _ myself_.”

Dean stops breathing, looking at his best friend.

“I just said—” Seamus starts.

Ginny pulls her wand and points it at his collarbone. Seamus shuts up fast.

“_No_. You did that on _ purpose_. For your own selfishness. And I don’t know why and I don’t care. But, I want you to know that you had a part in this too,” Ginny barks.

Seamus scoffs. “You cheated on _ him_.”

“I know,” Ginny snarls, fiercer than she’s felt in a long while.

And she did. She cheated on Dean.

But, there are worse things she’s done too. 

_ And she was my best friend for years. _

“But, I don’t owe you shit,” Ginny hisses. “And you need to get out of my _ way_.”

She means in more ways than one.

She’s pretty sure Seamus hears all of them. He steps to the side, wide-eyed, and allows her to pass. Lavender and Hermione file after her, shooting two more dirty looks at the boy. When Ginny emerges in the common room, Dean is still lingering there with Neville. He’s staring into the fire, more lost than anything.

“We can go, Dean…” Neville mumbles when he catches sight of Ginny.

“We _ really _need to talk,” Ginny interrupts, firm and sure. Dean looks up at her wide-eyed. “And we need to have a conversation where you’ll allow me to talk back.”

“When?” Dean asks, suddenly. “Tomorrow?”

“No. I have someone else to talk to. Wednesday?” Ginny asks.

Dean frowns. “Someone more important than me?”

Ginny doesn’t hesitate: “Yes.”

Dean opens his mouth and then closes it again. He nods his assent, and Ginny marches from the Common Room, Hermione and Lavender on either side of her. She feels like she’s flying as Forward Chaser, with her Right Wing and Left Wing flanking her. It’s an incredible feeling. She smiles over at Hermione, but Hermione doesn’t smile back.

“Seamus was gaslighting you?” Hermione asks. “Making you think you were insane?”

“‘Gaslighting’?” Lavender repeats.

Hermione nods. “He manipulated you and the truth around you to make you think you were insane. Because he was...what? Jealous that Dean was paying attention to you?”

“I guess,” Ginny says with a shrug.

Hermione frowns down at the floor. “He can’t get away with it.”

“He won’t,” Lavender says. Both Ginny and Hermione look up at her, wide-eyed. Lavender is staring straight ahead, a grim expression on her face. “Dean looked upset. Like he didn’t know. And now, he does. He’ll tear Seamus a new one.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Hermione asks blandly.

Lavender smiles. “Wait until he gets a load of _ me_.”


	41. TUESDAY, 12:53PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny and Romilda FINALLY talk.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "This is what makes us girls  
We all look for heaven and we put our love first  
Something that we'd die for, it's a curse  
Don't cry about it, don't cry about it  
This is what makes us girls  
We don't stick together 'cause we put our love first  
Don't cry about him, don't cry about him  
It's all gonna happen"
> 
> -This Is What Makes Us Girls, Lana del Rey

Ginny isn’t friends with Romilda anymore.

But, she knows her.

She knew Romilda for years.

So, she knows that Millie likes to use the girl’s bathroom on the third floor after lunch, and she knows that Moaning Myrtle won’t be there, because the ghost is terrified of Millie.

So, Ginny leaves the Great Hall early, ignoring her friends’ questions on her coming and going, and she goes upstairs. When she throws open the door to the bathroom, she’s expecting Myrtle before she even arrives.

“_HOW DARE YOU DISTURB ME IN MY—” _

“Shut it, Myrtle,” Ginny growls.

The pale ghost of a girl stops where she is, making a squeaking noise when she notices Ginny in the doorway. She was permanently trapped as a squat young girl, face pocked with pimples, with her round, thick glasses perched on her nose. She is probably one of the most unpleasant, whingy beings that Ginny has ever come into contact with.

“_ You_. Ooooh, it’s not time for her yet!” Myrtle squeals.

Ginny huffs. Myrtle might be the one person in all of Hogwarts that has no idea that Romilda and Ginny aren’t friends anymore. That’ll work to Ginny’s advantage.

“And if you don’t want her to Banish you, you’ll escape down whatever drain pipe you hide in,” Ginny says. She ignores Myrtle’s offended squeak. “Go on now!”

“You’re just _ dreadful! _” Myrtle squeals, hysterical sobs catching in her throat as she flies off, swooping through the air before she dives for the drain and disappears.

Ginny lingers in the middle of the bathroom, just to be sure Myrtle is gone. When Myrtle doesn’t return to throw a fit, Ginny slides into the nearest stall and locks it behind her. She listens to her own breathing as she waits for Romilda to enter the bathroom, and arms herself with her wand.

Ginny thinks she knows what she wants to say.

And every time she thinks that, she knows less and less.

But, she doesn’t have time to think for long because the door opens, and she hears the click of Romilda’s heels. She hears Millie stop by the mirror, and then, Ginny throws the stall door open.

“_Colloportus_,” Ginny calls, and the bathroom door clicks shut. She catches a glimpse of Romilda’s surprise in her reflection, and she’s turning, pulling her wand. "_Expelliarmus_.”

Ginny catches Romilda’s wand with ease. If she wasn’t going to be a Chaser, she might’ve wanted to be a Seeker, once upon a time.

“What the fuck, Ginevra?” Romilda snarls.

She doesn’t make a move towards Ginny, not when she’s practically powerless. She’s locked in with Ginny, and Ginny has her own wand and Romilda’s. For a moment, Ginny entertains the idea of making Romilda feel every bit of humiliation that she’s heaped upon Ginny all term. She thinks about how Romilda made her life fucking _ miserable. _

It would be so easy.

_ And she was my best friend for years. _

“We need to talk,” Ginny says.

Romilda bares her teeth. “I have nothing to fucking say to you. Now, give me my _ wand_,” she barks, authoritatively.

But Ginny can see the panic in her hazel eyes, and she knows Romilda won’t do a thing without her wand.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just...listen, okay?” Ginny says, her voice softening. “We have two and a half more years together, Romilda. We need to talk.”

Romilda stares at her in disbelief, her lips parted. For a moment, Ginny thinks that Romilda’s really going to say ‘_fuck the wand_’ and punch her in her face. But, then, Romilda whips around to look at their reflections and then, she drops to the ground. She sits back against the porcelain sink and looks up at Ginny, unimpressed.

“Then, _ talk _Ginevra.”

Ginny swallows hard and slowly gets on her knees in front of Romilda.

“You can’t be mean to me for two and a half more years. We can’t go on like this, Romilda.”

And Ginny feels so fucking tired. She’s _ exhausted_.

“I don’t know if you know this...but before you, I never really had friends. I had family—people I hadn’t chosen,” Ginny begins. She stares at Romilda, but Romilda refuses to look at her. She stares right past her ear, like that’ll make this easier. “But, you...I _ chose _ you, when we were just eleven years old. _ You_.”

Romilda bites on the inside of her cheek and rolls her eyes, but there’s something there, stirring under the surface. Ginny swallows and pushes on.

“You can’t imagine what that’s like...I was the last child in a family of boys. No one got me except my mum. And then...there was _ you_. A cool, edgy girl, all of eleven, that looked right at me and said, '_So, you know about this magic shit_.' You don’t...you can’t imagine how much it meant to me. That you _ spoke _ to me. That you saw me,” Ginny says. She scoots forward until her knees are pressed against the patent leather of Romilda’s heels. “And I ruined that. And you will never know how _ deeply _I regret it.”

Romilda sniffs, rubbing at her nose, brushing the back of her hand over her eyes.

“But...I can’t spend my life thinking that every corner I turn, if we meet there, you’ll try to _ duel _me to death over Dean Thomas.”

Romilda lets out a watery laugh and she fully buries her face in her hands. Ginny aches to grab her wrists, to grab her hands, but that’s not them. Not anymore. Ginny’s ruined that, forever, and she needs to respect that.

“You didn’t want each other anymore. And I wanted him, even if that _ was _ selfish. You two weren’t working anymore...and that’s no excuse, but...I’m so, so sorry,” Ginny apologizes, her eyes burning with tears. “If I had a Time Turner, I’d go back in time and do it all differently. I wouldn’t _ lie _ to you, and go behind your back. But, I _ don’t _have a Time Turner. There’s just this.”

And suddenly, Romilda’s breath hitches in her throat, and a terribly human sound wrenches its way from her mouth. Her shoulders tremble, jumping up and down in time with her sobs.

“I know...we can’t ever be best friends again. But...can we stop? Stop this _ war_?” Ginny begs. “Because I’m _ tired_, and this term has been...almost unbearable.”

And Romilda sobs into her hands, tears rolling down her wrists from where she cries. Ginny gulps in deeply because she refuses to break. Instead, she waits and stares at Romilda until Romilda looks up with those light eyes.

“Okay, Ginevra. _ Okay."_


	42. WEDNESDAY, 12:49PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ginny and Dean try to talk but extenuating circumstances prevent them from doing so.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> 'Cause I know I can treat you better  
Than he can  
And any girl like you deserves a gentleman  
Tell me why are we wasting time  
On all your wasted cryin'  
When you should be with me instead  
I know I can treat you better  
Better than he can
> 
> Treat You Better, Shawn Mendes

She knows it’s coming. She moves the leftover broccoli heads across her plate, sneaking glances down the table at Seamus, Neville, and Dean. Seamus meets her gaze and flushes under her hard stare, redirecting it to the tabletop. Dean slowly puts down his fork and knife. He says something to Neville, and Neville claps him on the shoulder, looking vaguely worried. Dean sets his napkin to the side.

“Are you okay?” Luna asks softly, leaning over the table.

Ginny can only nod. She looks back down at her plate the moment Dean stands. The noise at the Gryffindor table lulls somewhat and she knows he’s approaching. And then—everyone in the nearby vicinity is silent.

Ginny looks up.

“Hey,” Ginny says. Her voice is too soft, it cracks, and she hates it. She straightens, and looks Dean in the eye and repeats it, strong and kind, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Dean murmurs back. He looks over his shoulder, back into the Great Hall where almost the entire student body sits, pretending that they aren’t looking at them. “You want to talk now?”

He asks her like this isn’t going to be the end of them. He asks her like he’s going to regret it.

She doesn’t think she will.

“Yeah. Let’s go talk,” Ginny agrees.

There are things she wants to say, things that are on the tip of her tongue, things that she knew on Saturday night that she hadn’t been able to say because she had been afraid of hurting his feelings. She hadn’t wanted to hurt this boy’s feelings. But, Ginny doesn’t want to hold her tongue anymore. Ginny wasn’t made to curb her feelings for a man.

Ginny was made to fly. Even if it is alone.

“You’re good?” Ron asks without looking up from his plate.

Ginny knows it’s because if he even _ looked _at Dean, he’d want to fight him; she appreciates his self-control. It’s not usually Ron’s strong suit.

“I’m good,” Ginny agrees. She pushes up from the table and tosses a look over at the others. “Ta, I’ll see you lot later.”

“Ta,” Harry drawls with a slightly mocking smile. Ginny sniffs, rolling her eyes at him.

Lavender hums, looking Dean up and down, slowly. Dean squirms under her gaze; even he’s not unaffected by Lavender’s looks. Lavender looks at him like she finds him lacking, and Ginny knows that she does it for her. She smiles at her and follows Dean from the Great Hall.

They walk in silence through the Entrance Hall and up the stairs. There are a few people lingering in the halls, but it’s easy to find an empty corridor just off the stairs on the fourth floor, still in sight of the moving stairs. Ginny presses back into a wall, foot propped up and she looks over at Dean for a long moment. Dean stares back at her, like he expects her to speak first.

“So, you said a lot on Saturday,” Ginny says slowly. “A lot that was hurtful. I guess I deserved ‘hurt’. You also said a lot of things that weren’t true. _That _I didn’t deserve.”

Dean looks at her, eyes wide with surprise.

“What did I say that was untrue?” Dean asks. Like he can’t actually see it.

“I know who I am,” Ginny bites back savagely. Dean rears back, surprised by her sudden aggression. “I’m not perfect, but I know who I am. You don’t. You don’t know who I am; you don’t know a lot of shite. You didn’t care because you didn’t want to see it. I was unhappy, Dean.”

Dean scoffs. “I _ did_—”

“_I _did!” Ginny snarls. Dean breaks off, taking a step back. “I _ did_. I broke myself into a shape that would fit into _ your _ life. _ I _ didn’t have friends. _ I _ didn’t have anyone on my team. _ I _ didn’t have my life together. _ I _ hung out with your friends. _ I _ studied with _ you_. _ I _ sucked _ your _ cock. You didn’t give a fuck about my friends and whenever I tried to get you to hang out with us, you didn’t want to. You missed my first Quidditch game. You never studied with me. You never _ touched _ me unless _ you _ got pleasure out of it. I’m not a fucking ‘cool girl’, Dean. I’m _ me_.”

Dean’s silent, cataloging the words that she’s thrown at him.

Ginny’s breath comes harder.

She feels like she’s _ flying_.

Dean opens his mouth to respond, then closes his mouth again. He leans forward, and then, there’s a laugh that interrupts them. They turn to look down the hallway.

Ginny seems to remember Zabini saying that he isn’t friends with Malfoy. They look rather chummy walking down the corridor, even if Zabini is _ technically _chatting with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, the former of the pair looking rather grim and ill, something that Ginny’s noticed throughout the term, if she really thinks about it.

“—_I _think—” Malfoy starts.

“No one cares, Malfoy,” Zabini says dismissively, turning towards Parkinson, practically walking backwards. “Come on, Pans. I know you’re gifted in Charms. Let me take a little look—”

“Not a _ chance_, Zabini,” Parkinson drawls, sniffing. Even ill, she’s still snooty.

Greengrass giggles into her hand and makes to say something until she spots Dean and Ginny at the end of the corridor. She hisses at her companions that Ginny can’t make out, and the group of Slytherins all look over at them. Malfoy’s mouth curls into a smarmy grin, probably ready to spit anything heinous. Zabini spots Ginny and everything about his face softens.

Ginny swallows her own heart.

“Stalker,” she says before she can stop herself.

Zabini’s mouth turns up. “Ginny Weasley.”

The way he says her name, it feels like a nickname all of its own. It’s then that she knows that what she felt for Zabini—attraction, a draw—wasn’t just a symptom of her crumbling relationship with Dean. It was something of its own. And she wants to know more.

“If it isn’t the _ happy _couple,” Parkinson murmurs.

She doesn’t say it mockingly, but it makes Ginny’s hackles rise anyway.

“_Girl-_Weasley and _Thomas_, aren’t you—” Malfoy begins.

“Don’t start, Malfoy. Keep walking,” Dean snarls aggressively, far more aggressive than Ginny has ever seen him. He speaks to Malfoy, but he’s glowering at Zabini.

“Dean, enough,” Ginny sighs. She’s already exhausted. “They’re just passing through now.”

Greengrass has never been the type to antagonize and she tries to usher the other Slytherins past quickly. Zabini seems to catch onto Dean’s aggression quickly because he stops, and deliberately turns his back on Dean. He looks down at Ginny.

“Are you okay?” he asks and then looks over his shoulder to indicate why he asks.

Dean grimaces. “She’s fine.”

“I wasn’t _ asking _you,” Zabini insists carefully.

“She’s not your girlfriend,” Dean barks and he reaches out for Zabini.

Zabini turns, pulling his wand. Malfoy takes it as an excuse and spins around, pulling out of Greengrass’ grip. He pulls his own wand, and then, Dean follows.

“She doesn’t seem to be yours either. Or at least, she doesn’t want to be,” Zabini retorts.

“Are you fucking _ serious_?” Ginny drawls. “You’re all children.”

None of them look at her. Malfoy leans in.

“Hex him, Blaise—”

“Shut the fuck up, Malfoy. Let the grown-ups speak.”

Malfoy glares at Zabini, but falls silent. Dean takes a step closer.

“You fucked everything up,” Dean accuses, voice low.

“No, that was 82% you and your crazy ex,” Zabini corrects. “I’m responsible for maybe 8%. Sorry, Ginny Weasley, the other 10% is yours.”

Ginny knows he’s being snide and quippy on purpose and she finds it so _charming_, but Dean just looks even angrier.

Before it can erupt into an outright duel, the clicking of someone’s shoes fill the hallway. They all freeze and look back from where the Slytherins came from.

Tom Marvolo Riddle is _ still _not in his uniform.

Ginny wonders how he gets away with so much bullshit. Maybe it’s because he’s good looking.

Bellatrix Black is, as always, by his side, a constant wraith.

“An _ ickle _ little baby fight. A duel to the death for the honor of a _ girl _?” Bellatrix teases, laughing falsely and girlishly.

Ginny glares at her. She still hasn’t forgotten the number that Bellatrix did on Lavender.

“Well, well, a duel in _ my _school? That won’t do,” Riddle says loftily. He glances deliberately at all of their ties, his burgundy gaze lingering on the silver and green. “And two of my Slytherins. No, that’s not to my taste at all.”

Malfoy stiffens. “Riddle—”

“Draco, hush,” Riddle breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, and Malfoy falls silent like he’s been magicked. Ginny can’t even hear him breathing. “Now, I’d rather not take away points, so why don’t we all put our wands _ away _.”

Immediately, both Malfoy and Zabini stow their wands away. Dean follows just a second after.

“Now, classes are about to resume. I think you should all begin your journeys,” Riddle says. He speaks so decisively, almost kindly, if not for the chilliness in his eyes. There is something cruel that keeps him from being anything more than mildly pleasant.

“But, he—” Dean begins.

“Enough,” Riddle says, already done. He takes a step forward and turns his gaze to Ginny. Something like recognition flickers through them. “You can’t afford to be getting into any more trouble, can you, little Weasley?”

Ginny sneers at the condescending nickname. “_ No_,” she bites out.

Riddle hums, and looks over at the three boys, all ready to fight the moment he turns his back on them. He jerks his chin at Malfoy and Zabini and the two boys depart to join the two Slytherin girls on the staircase. Ginny ignores the look Zabini casts her in favor of watching Riddle.

“Lunch is almost over. Where do you need to be, Weasley?” Riddle barks, eyes darting back and forth between the two departing Slytherins and Dean. Dean’s heaving with rage, his back pressed against the wall, his eyes narrowed into slits as he stares at Riddle. Riddle isn’t having it though. “I told you to _ leave_. Get out of my sight or I’ll assign your detention with that oaf that calls himself a professor. Maybe he’ll have you take care of the Blast-Ended Skrewts.”

Dean scurries off at the heavy threat, casting one more look at Ginny. Ginny glares up at Riddle.

“Don’t call Hagrid an ‘oaf’,” she snaps, a warning threat. Everyone knows that being at the end of this look is something to be terrified of.

Riddle rolls his eyes like she’s nothing but a Pygmy Puff.

“Bellatrix, my dear, there’s no need to wait,” Riddle says so firmly that Bellatrix doesn’t even think to disobey. She only casts a last uncertain look at Riddle, then glares at Ginny as she struts away. Riddle turns all of his attention onto Ginny, and for a moment, she sees why Lavender and everyone else fall at this boy’s feet. To be at the end of that look—“Are you mute, Weasley? Where do you need to be?”

Ginny scowls. “Defence. I have an assessment today.”

“Very well. I’ll walk you there,” Riddle declares and he leads the way, long powerful strides.

He’s much taller than Ginny so she has to practically jog to keep up with him. She does though, staring up at him, because she’s curious.

“Thanks. For stopping the fight,” she says grudgingly. The silence is unbearable.

“I’m Head Boy. It’s my job,” Riddle drawls. He looks over at her. “What’s your assessment on?”

“Spell modifiers,” Ginny mumbles, and she isn’t quite sure because she hasn’t really found the time to study in between all of the fucking drama. Just the thought makes her dig through her satchel to search for notes. 

“Ah. _ Horribilis, Maxima, Solem_, and _ Totalum_,” Riddle lists out, sounding rather bored. He sounds a little like Harry, actually, when someone doesn’t get Defence, which comes so easy to him. “Do you understand the difference?”

Ginny cuts a gaze to him, raising an eyebrow. He’s not _ her _ teacher’s assistant. If anything, that’ll be Harry once _ this _prick graduates.

“Vaguely.”

Riddle nods. “_ Horribilis _ and _ Solem _ are spell specific modifiers. _ Horribilis _should always be paired with the shield charm, ‘Protego’. It is an effective pair, and the most powerful form of the Shield Charm, capable of withstanding nearly all Dark spells, with the exception of the Killing Curse.”

Ginny blinks, because she honestly didn’t fucking remember that.

“And..._ Solem_?” she asks nervously.

“It is paired with the Wand-Lighting Charm, ‘Lumos’, creating a burst of light on the equivalent of sunlight. This requires a moderate increase in willpower,” Riddle says. He turns to her as they walk up the stairs to the third floor, where Lupin’s classroom is. “Now, tell me, what does _ Maxima _ do versus _ Totalum_?”

Ginny swallows. “Um…_ Maxima _ makes the spell as good as it can be, right? And _ Totalum _ casts a wider net?”

Riddle’s mouth twists in distaste, but he nods all the same.

“Yes,” he drawls. “_Totalum _widens the scope of the spell. This requires a strong concentration of willpower, due to the fact that you must have more control over your spell. It is important that you not apply these modifiers too freely. You may exhaust yourself faster and it will take time for your magical stores to return.”

Ginny blinks wildly because _ that’s _ not something that Lupin said they should know, but he’s a fan of bonus credit questions. She’s sure that will be the bonus question. She looks up at Riddle and nods, actually _ grateful_.

“Thanks, Riddle,” she says.

Riddle nods once, stares down at her long enough to make her squirm. She redirects her gaze back down to her notes that weren’t _ nearly _as thorough as Riddle’s explanation.

“You’re friends with Harry,” Riddle begins. Ginny looks up from her notes, wide-eyed, and she can’t help the way her lips twitch. Riddle clarifies, “Harry Potter.”

As if there was any other Harry that he could possibly be referring to.

“Yes. Best friends, practically,” Ginny says, and this time, she doesn’t feel like it’s an exaggeration because they’re _ all _her best friends now.

Riddle contemplates this for a long moment. Ginny’s lips curl into a true smile and she prepares to walk into the Defence classroom before she’s late. Riddle’s hand shoots out, clutching on the knob and tugging the door in tight. He stares down at her, and she can’t read anything in those burgundy eyes, and even still, she’s finding pleasure in teasing this utter prick.

“He is unattached, yes?” Riddle asks.

Ginny shrugs. “For now.”

Riddle blinks.

“Yes, for now,” Riddle agrees like he’s the one that’s going to rectify that. Ginny rolls her eyes; so fucking full of himself. “Has he changed his mind yet?”

“Not that I know of. And what was it he said? 'Don’t..._ count on it'_,” Ginny drawls.

Riddle huffs out a sound that could be a laugh, but Ginny isn’t sure if he’s capable of such human reactions.

“Right. Well, Harry and his friends are all cordially invited to our late Samhain celebration on Friday. Slytherin dungeons,” Riddle says. He slowly releases the knob and backs away, looking at Ginny Weasley for a long moment. “Remember, _ Horribilis _ and _ Solem _are the only spell-specific modifiers.”

“Got it,” Ginny says with a nod. “And we’ll be there. _ Harry _will be there.”

Riddle looks almost pleased. “Friday, then, Weasley.”

Ginny turns to go into the classroom and smirks.

Fucking asshole. She hopes Harry eviscerates him.


	43. THURSDAY, 7:05PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which, THIS IS HALLOWEEN!
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Bad boys need love too  
(You know who I'm talkin' 'bout)  
Bad boys need love too  
(You know who I'm talkin' 'bout)
> 
> Bad Boys Need Love Too, Bahamas

“Ugh, I’m _ starving_!” Ron declares as he throws himself into his seat, surveying the Halloween feast with eyes too wide. Before Lavender and Luna can even sit down, he’s heaping a fat baked potato the size of a giant’s fist and steak and kidney pie onto his plate. Hermione’s nose wrinkles.

“You lack manners, Ronald Weasley,” she condemns severely.

Ron rolls his eyes, but he seems to slow down when he catches a whiff of Lavender’s own distaste. Harry grins into his hand as he sits down between Lavender and Hermione. Luna sits down and Ginny refuses to subject her to Ron. She shoves him.

“Budge over,” Ginny says, sliding into the seat and trading his full plate for the empty one. Ron scowls at her, but doesn’t say anything.

“Is there any treacle tart?” Harry asks, looking up and down the table for his dessert.

“You haven’t had your dinner, habibi,” Hermione says. Her voice softens by a thousand times, and Ginny frowns. Usually, Hermione’s _ very _firm about things like that. And Harry’s usually much better about eating.

But, instead, he keeps his plate empty, emptier than even Lavender’s, as he searches for treacle tart.

“Mate, have a piece of chicken,” Ron says without looking up from his plate. He stabs one with his knife and slides it onto Harry’s plate.

Harry frowns down at it, but obediently picks at it, eating the skin.

Ginny catches Hermione’s eye, but Hermione stares at Harry, worried.

It takes a minute for Ginny to realize why.

It’s Halloween.

The day Harry’s parents died.

She winces. She’d seen him throughout the day and hadn’t said a word about it. Not even a passing condolence. Maybe, she should—

Now, it’s Ron that looks at her, staring at her from the corner of his eye. He shakes his head once, as discreet as someone like Ron can be—which is to say _ very _discreet, if the effort is made—and Ginny gets the message.

_ Say nothing about Harry’s parents. _

Got it.

Ginny digs into her food with gusto instead, piling her plate high with food and eating bites of Cauldron Cake in between because she can’t help it. She munches on meat pasties that remind her of her mum, and loses herself in the lull of conversation, jumping into a debate about Quidditch with gusto.

“The next game we’ll get to play is in November. It’ll be the last game until _ March_,” Ron complains.

“Well, just be satisfied that it isn’t the Slytherin game. A missing game with Hufflepuff? They’ll survive without you,” Hermione says.

Ginny smiles. “You know the Quidditch schedule.”

“I know _ their _ schedule,” Hermione corrects primly. “I have to force them to study _ some _time.”

Harry snorts into his food, but he doesn’t say anything.

Hermione’s face almost falls, for just a moment before she sits up straight.

“Is Remus still upset about…the fight?” Hermione asks.

Lavender perks up from her bored stupor, excited by the idea of gossip, even if it’s just about Harry’s godfather.

Harry smiles too. “No. Sirius convinced him it was a noble thing of me, to get into a fight.”

Hermione doesn’t look like she appreciates that, but also, like she expects it.

“Your godfather is _ very _handsome, Harry,” Lavender says, fluttering her eyelashes.

Harry rolls his eyes. “I guess.”

“What’s he like?” she continues.

Before Harry can answer, Luna jumps in, providing a quick, “He resembles Stubby Boardman. Are you sure he didn’t moonlight as the lead singer of The Hobgoblins?”

Harry hums.

“No, but he gets that a lot,” Harry says quite seriously. He turns back to Lavender, something subdued in his expression as he considers her. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Besides Ron and Hermione. I didn’t…Sirius is the best.”

It’s so heartbreakingly honest and kind. It overwhelms. Ginny just smiles and nods.

“He seems really cool,” she says honestly.

“That’s one word for Sirius,” Hermione hums with a smile, glancing over at Harry. Harry pouts. “Come on, habibi. You have to say that Remus is the more responsible of the two.”

“Of _ course_, he is,” Ron pipes up.

Luna frowns. “What does he do all day if he isn’t the lead singer of The Hobgoblins?”

“Lounge about his family home and boss around the house elf, Kreacher,” Harry says. Hermione’s face screws up and Harry raises his hands in surrender. “We honestly think Kreacher might kill himself if we released him so…”

“Valid point,” Ron insists. “You wouldn’t want Kreacher’s death on your conscience, now would you, Hermione?”

“I concede your point,” Hermione mutters under her breath.

Luna leans forward with those big grey eyes. “You want to help house elves and fight against their mistreatment?” she asks gently.

Hermione straightens, firing up. “Absolutely! The treatment of house elves by pureblood families is abhorrent and—”

“Have you asked them how to help them?” Luna continues as if Hermione hadn’t said a word. She still sounds so gentle and kind, but the question shuts Hermione up right away. Hermione stares at her, wide-eyed. “You should ask them. Not all of them feel the same as Mr. Dobby.”

Hermione looks like she’s ready to argue again, and then, she slumps in her seat, a thoughtful look on her face. She nods firmly as she takes in Luna’s words, and Luna’s smile is edged with triumph.

“Anyway, do you think Slytherin will beat Hufflepuff this weekend?” Ron asks.

Harry’s face screws up as he honestly considers the question. Ginny has a few opinions of her own, but she’s distracted when the Great Hall doors swing open dramatically.

Speaking of _ Slytherin_—

Let it never be said that Tom Marvolo Riddle didn’t know how to make an entrance.

He walks through the entrance to the Great Hall with his entourage, in his all-black ensemble once more. This time, the Lestrange brothers, Bellatrix, Rosier, and Nott, are dressed in their Samhain ensemble, dedicated participants in the Old Ways. The Old Ways aren’t _ illegal, _per se, but they’re looked down on, due to their exclusivity. Ginny knows that their parents had started to raise Bill in the Old Way before they’d adopted a more inclusive parenting style.

“Fuck,” Lavender whispers to herself like Riddle didn’t just destroy her.

Ginny purses her lips as titters break out across the Great Hall. She glances up at the Head Table. Dumbledore looks amused. Snape looks resigned. Ginny looks back to the Death Eaters.

Riddle turns towards the Gryffindor table, eyes searching. His burgundy gaze stops on their group. Ginny looks at Harry where he’s tucked between Hermione and Lavender. He narrows a glare at Riddle.

And Tom Marvolo Riddle, honest to Merlin, _ smiles_.

Ginny hears Harry stop breathing.

Riddle turns away, going towards the Slytherin table without another word. Ginny stares at Harry with wide eyes and looks around to see if anyone else has seen it. She meets Hermione’s shrewd stare, and Ginny’s lips twitch in amusement.

“Did you see that?” Lavender asks, giddy. “He _ smiled _at me.”

Ginny swallows a snort. “Did he?” she drawls. Lavender glares at her and sniffs, dismissing her entirely. Ginny looks back at Harry and leans in. Into his ear, she whispers, “He asked about you yesterday. _ Specifically_.”

Harry swallows. “Whatever,” he bites out.

If he stabs his treacle tart with more gusto than usual, Ginny doesn’t say anything.

She just smirks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here is the second last day of cherry bomb!
> 
> Here's looking out to you!


	44. FRIDAY, 8:37AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which several conversations happen.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "Loving you  
Isn't the right thing to do  
How can I ever change things  
That I feel
> 
> If I could  
Maybe I'd give you my world  
How can I  
When you won't take it from me
> 
> You can go your own way  
Go your own way  
You can call it  
Another lonely day  
You can go your own way  
Go your own way"
> 
> -Go Your Own Way, Fleetwood Mac

“Do you need a Pepper-Up potion?” Hermione asks for what feels like the thousandth time.

Lavender gives that put upon sigh again, and dramatically puts her head on the table next to her empty plate. She shakes her head. “_No_,” she insists. “My stomach is just a bit upset.”

“Maybe it’s from the Halloween feast,” Luna pipes up. “You ate a lot last night.”

Despite how contrary to the norm, Luna’s right; Lavender ate an obscene amount of sweets. It’s enough to truly upset anyone’s stomach unless it’s Ron’s, who possesses the belly of a Hungarian Horntail. For Lavender, it had been rather odd since she wasn’t one for _ eating_, exactly.

“Maybe. I practically stuffed myself with Cauldron Cakes,” Lavender declares. She casts a sly look over at Harry and smiles. “And _ mashed potatoes_.”

For once, Harry doesn’t smile. He stares at Lavender with a knowing glint in his eyes that Ginny can’t decipher, nor does she particularly want to. Ginny looks down, suddenly uncomfortable—_it isn’t any of your business_, she tells herself.

_ (She’s lying._)

“Maybe we shouldn’t go to the Slytherin party tonight,” Hermione murmurs. “And maybe you should see Madame Pomfrey?”

Almost immediately, Lavender’s expression went through a revolution of emotions. First, flattery, then, irritation, and then back to that pained expression that seems a little faker now that Ginny had watched her reaction. Ginny purses her lips and looks around the table, but Luna is more interested in trying to convince Ron of the existence of Blibbering Humdingers; Ron actually looks like he’s listening.

Hermione doesn’t quite seem to notice, but Ginny just has to look at Harry to know that _ he _did.

“I think you’re right,” Harry says slowly, looking Lavender up and down. “You look peaky, Lav. Maybe we shouldn’t go tonight.”

“No, I’m fine!” Lavender insists, perking up.

Hermione frowns at her. “But, if you’re ill—”

“I’ll be fine for later,” Lavender repeats, looking wide-eyed and wild. “We can _ not _miss the Samhain party. We just can’t.”

“We shouldn’t be going to that anyway,” Hermione hums, pursing her lips. “It’ll be like we’re supporting the pureblood agenda.”

At this, Ron finally pulls away from his conversation with Luna, in which he had just finished asking her about the logistics and likelihood of Blibbering Humdingers being attracted to her parsnip earrings, and whether it was the earrings on the parsnips that attracted them.

“What’s wrong with Samhain?” he asks, wide-eyed.

Hermione looks at him like he’s just cursed her.

“It’s indicative of an exclusionary culture that oppresses half-bloods and Muggleborns!” Hermione insists. She leans forward, getting that lecture-y expression on her face, the one that means she’s about to enter a tirade. Ginny sits back and smirks, ready for her delivery. “As someone that experiences Western culture, North African, and—”

“North African?” Lavender interrupts, wide-eyed as she forgets to pretend that she’s sick for some inane reason.

“I’m Moroccan and Egyptian. African-Arabic,” Hermione interjects swiftly. She continues, brushing a curl behind her ear. “I’ve experienced a vast variety of cultures, and I would say that pureblood culture is restrictive and regressive in a number of ways. Even from the way wizards are meant to inherit—it’s still _ patrilineal_. It’s assumed that estates and wealth will go to the eldest son, no matter if they have an older daughter.”

“But, that’s because their spouse will take care of them,” Ron says, like a fucking idiot.

Hermione’s eyes narrow. “It doesn’t _ matter_,” she snaps. “And there’s also the aspect of addressing your blood status on job applications. Statistically, wizards and witches of pureblood status are more likely to secure jobs in the Ministry, before anyone _ else_.”

“But, that has nothing to do with Samhain,” Ron argues again, wide-eyed. “Samhain is about honoring the dead when the veil is thinnest. Even Harry celebrates Samhain!”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Leave _ me _out of it!” he protests, raising his hands as Hermione rounds on him.

“You do _ what_, habibi?” she demands.

Ginny sighs and decides to take the dragon by the head.

“Listen, Hermione,” she begins. “I wasn’t raised in the Old Ways. Neither was Ron. And I’ll be the first to admit that the Old Ways can be a touch regressive. It’s all arranged marriages and political maneuvering and patriarchal, misogynistic bullshit. Just a hundred years ago, in some families, someone like...let’s see, for example, Bones wouldn’t have been able to be friends with you, let alone date you.”

At this, Hermione stiffens, staring at Ginny with this expression that’s equal parts appalled and nervous.

“Why?” Hermione asks softly. “Because I’m black, a woman, or a Muggleborn?”

“Any assortment of reasons, not limited to those three factors. And if you were allowed to be friends, it would be because they saw you as the exception, not the rule,” Ginny says, and she hates the words as they come off her tongue, but they're true. “But, Samhain has nothing to do with that.”

“It’s a part of that system,” Hermione protests, but she sounds less convinced.

“Very much so,” Ginny agrees. “But, even someone like Bellatrix _ Black _ wouldn’t call you a slur to your face—”

“But, behind my back, then?” Hermione asks.

Harry shakes his head. “Not even that. The Blacks are complicated, but the racism and Muggleborn-hatred was reserved to my godfather’s dear old mum and dad, and they’re very much _ dead_,” Harry says with a morbid smile. He leans in. “Hermione-habibi, I _ did _celebrate Samhain, with my godfathers, when I was younger. It was the day my parents died, and my godfathers wanted to make it a celebration of their life, the moments when we were closest. My mum fought to change a lot of things, but my father was a follower of a reformed set of Old Ways. I’ll fight for equality with you, but Samhain...it keeps me close to them.”

“Also, Malfoy is the most ignorant one in that House,” Ginny sneers, “and I’m pretty sure it’s just because he’s a dick. But, even he would never call you the M-word.”

Hermione looks much more thoughtful. She leans forward to whisper, “The Slytherins still make me...somewhat nervous.”

“They’re not all cut from the same cloth,” Luna says sweetly. “Bellatrix Black and some of the others wouldn’t be friends with Riddle or follow him, if they didn't think different in some capacity. Times are changing, Mione. Children are better than their parents every day.”

And this seems to be the thing that convinces Hermione that Samhain is okay.

“Okay…” Hermione draws out. “But, only if Lavender is feeling well.”

Lavender perks up. “I’m _ fine_.”

“I’d feel better if you’d go to Madame Pomfrey,” Hermione insists, forever a mother hen.

“I’ll take her after breakfast,” Harry volunteers.

Hermione beams. She goes back to her pancakes and looks over at Luna and Ron with a curious look on her face. “Now, what were you two talking about? An imagined creature called the Blibbering Humdinger?”

“It’s _ real_,” Luna insists. “And my father and I are planning on joining an expedition this summer to search for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. It’s being organized by _ the _Newt Scamander and his wife, Porpentina—”

There’s a sharp caw, and Ginny almost jumps when she sees a distinctive black hawk swoop through the air, cutting right over them before dropping a small folded letter right in front of Harry’s nearly empty plate. Harry blinks and looks up as the hawk circles around their heads once before darting across the Great Hall to its owner.

Harry stares down at the letter in disdain before picking it up between two fingers.

Lavender stares, her mouth almost agape.

“That’s Riddle’s hawk,” Ron says, _ obviously_. “What’s he got to say to you, Harry?”

Lavender’s eyes narrow with suspicion.

Ginny swallows hard as she looks over at Harry. Harry stares down at the letter and tries to school his face; he isn’t very good at it, because he looks almost panicked.

“Well, Harry’s our leader!” Ginny almost shouts. Everyone glances over at her and Harry swiftly rips open the letter, scanning the insides. He swallows noticeably and then crumples the letter in his fist. “It makes sense that Riddle would give Harry the password, right?”

“But, we’re going to see him at the prefect meeting later…” Hermione began.

“He probably didn’t want to bring it up in front of people that weren’t invited,” Lavender jumps in, wide-eyed and oh so innocent. “He’s courteous that way.”

Hermione raises a disbelieving eyebrow but doesn’t disabuse Lavender of her belief.

“Well, I have the password. Party starts at eight. Let’s go for ten,” Harry declares he pushes back from the table and stands. “Ready for Madame Pomfrey, Lavender?”

Lavender glowers. “What_ ever _.”

* * *

When Madame Pomfrey declares that there’s nothing wrong with Lavender, Lavender flashes Harry a smile of triumph. He rolls his eyes, and smiles back weakly when she hops off the bed and struts out, tossing her long curls over her shoulder. Harry glances over at Madame Pomfrey, who looks vaguely worried.

“Has she eaten—” Madame Pomfrey begins.

“I’ll make sure she eats something,” Harry interrupts.

Madame Pomfrey nods. Her eyes narrow on him. “And _ you_, young man, have you—”

“I’ve eaten,” Harry says dutifully. Sometimes, once in a while, Madame Pomfrey will ask, and he will tell her that he has, and he will make sure that it’s never a lie. Even if he has to force the food down and it tastes like ash, he won’t lie to this woman.

“Good boy,” Madame Pomfrey says, relieved. “If she needs help, you bring her to me. I’ll help her.”

“I know,” Harry says with a smile. He _ knows_.

He follows after Lavender where she lingers outside of the Hospital Wing.

“I think I’ll wear black tonight. I have this black minidress, and I’ll transform the neckline a little. A deeper V will look even _ more _ dramatic, and black is _ very _slimming. Did you know that, Harry?” Lavender asks without even thinking to ask what took him so long. “And my hair, should I wear it up or down?”

“Lav…” Harry begins, uncertainly. He’s never been good at being outright about things like this. Hermione’s better at confrontation, but she hasn’t learned to recognize the signs in Lavender, like the way that she and Ron recognize it in Harry.

“I think up will emphasize my neck more. I’ve been told that my neck is _ very _ attractive,” Lavender giggles, and Harry knows _ exactly _who told her that. Harry sighs and resists the urge to roll his fucking eyes.

“Lav,” Harry insists again.

“And the heels. _ Black _heels. I’ll have to be light on dinner if I want to fit into this dress. I bought it a size too small—”

“_Lavender_.” She looks up at him, now. He looks up and down the hallway, checking for professors or prefects, but there’s no one but them. “I _ know _what you’re doing.”

He knows what missed meals and thin wrists mean. He knows what papery skin and hollow cheeks mean too. Remus says there’s a name for it.

Just because he didn’t do it to himself—it was done _ to _him—doesn’t mean he doesn’t know the name for it.

“No, you don’t,” Lavender snaps. “You’re a boy. It’s different.”

Harry sighs. “Lav—”

“And it’s...look at _ you_,” Lavender continues. “All you do is eat treacle tart and fucking _ mashed potatoes_, and you’re thin and pale and _ gorgeous_. It’s easier for boys to maintain. You’re not a girl, and you’ve still…everyone knows you’re _ gorgeous_.”

She stumbles over her words, but he knows what she’s saying.

Harry looks down at himself, at his scruffy robes that he should probably take care of better, and the tight black slacks that his godfather forced him to buy because they looked good, and Sirius hates the idea of Harry owning any clothes from before Harry was in his custody.

Lavender isn’t wrong, in some ways. It is easier for boys. They don’t need to be thin, but curvy. Blonde, but smart, but never too smart. Big eyes, small nose, whatever. But, Harry knows how it’s hard for boys too, in some ways.

Too short. _ Stunted growth_.

Wild hair. _ That time they shaved his head, it grew back the next day. _ Crooked teeth until third year. _ Never bothered with braces_. Bent nose. _ Vernon said it was an accident, but he’d slammed the door on purpose, Remus had fixed it right during one of the weekend visits. _

Too skinny. _ Hollow, hollow, shrinking in his middle like a wasp, bones too big for his skin— _

“I know exactly how you feel,” Harry insists. He grabs her hands in his, because he doesn’t _ understand _ Lavender. He doesn’t understand how she doesn’t know this. How she doesn’t see how some of the boys stare at her. How she doesn’t hear what some of the boys _ say _about her. “Lav, you are so pretty.”

Lavender’s bottom lip quivers.

“Maybe. But, not pretty enough. Not for him.”

And Harry _ hates _that boy. He hates Tom fucking Riddle, who decided it was his Merlin-given right to treat people like trash just because he could.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. Let’s just…we have Defence, but I’ll tell Moony that you were ill. Now, do you want to go to my special place?”

Lavender lays her head on his shoulder. “Could we?”

“Of course.”

* * *

As Harry and Lavender march out of the Great Hall, heads bent close together, Ginny finally tears her eyes away from what’s safe. She looks down the Gryffindor table, and her eyes catch with Dean’s. She nods at him once and then bobs her head to the door. She watches as he considers it and then nods. Ginny takes a deep breath, steeling herself.

“Are you going…” Hermione begins, but she doesn’t finish her question.

“Yeah, I’m going to break up with him,” Ginny confirms.

“Aren’t you already broken up?” Ron asks.

Ginny shrugs. “We never got around to doing it for real. Completely. Wednesday was interrupted.”

“By who?” Ron asks.

“Zabini, Malfoy, Greengrass, and Parkinson. And then, Zabini, Dean, and Malfoy tried to duel one another. And then Riddle interrupted.”

Hermione leans forward. “Was it Zabini that invited us to the Samhain party, then?”

Ginny doesn’t feel bad about lying for Harry: “Yes. He just said that Riddle had to officially send the letter since it’s professor-sanctioned and everything. That means drinks for underage wizards and witches will be _ heavily _monitored.”

Hermione looks perplexed but pleased. “That’s good. If it’s professor-sanctioned, younger students shouldn’t be exposed to underage drinking.”

“I heard that they’re kicked out after ten,” Luna says. “Maybe we’ll convince the bartenders to serve us after that.”

Hermione looks crestfallen by how blatantly Luna states her opinion. Ginny giggles into her hand and stands to her feet.

“Wish me luck,” she declares as she grabs her bag and then begins to towards the door. “I might be a little late to Care, Luna. Let Hagrid know for me?”

“Got it,” Luna calls cheerfully.

Ginny doesn’t look behind her to see if Dean is following her. She trusts that he is.

When she waits in the Entrance Hall, she turns and he’s just there, looking uncertain. But, Ginny has never felt more sure in her life. Ginny walks towards the main stairs and sits down, patting the seat next to her.

“Don’t stand around. Come join me. I don’t bite,” Ginny drawls. “Unless you want me to.”

Dean barks out a laugh. “Funny,” he says, almost like he’s surprised.

Ginny has never felt more comfortable with Dean Thomas than she does right now. He sits down next to her and turns to face her.

“Gin, I’m so—” Dean begins.

Ginny holds up her hand. “I know who I am. Exactly who I am,” she says softly, kinder than how she’d shouted at him on Wednesday. “And...I’m okay with it. I’m not okay of who I became for you.”

“I’m sorry that I made you feel like you had to change,” Dean whispers. "I'm sorry that this...that this started out of what I did to _Millie_."

“It wasn’t all you. A lot of it was me. What _we _did to Millie,” Ginny says softly. “I just...saw everything you and Millie got wrong, and I wanted to get it right so badly. But...it wasn’t good. Neither of us was fair to the other. Neither of us was fair to Millie. And I’m an entirely different person, now. I’ve grown a lot, because of good friends and Quidditch and...mistakes.”

Dean flinches. “Was I a mistake?” he asks. He looks like he regrets it the moment the words leave his mouth.

Ginny considers his question for a long time. She stares at her knees.

_ Was Dean a mistake_?

Suddenly, she looks at him. “No,” she says kindly. “No, I grew a lot with you. And then, we grew apart. And I made some shitty mistakes. I did, and I _ hurt _ you. That was a mistake. And I'm so sorry for that, doing that to you. But, breaking up right now? This isn’t a mistake. I don’t _ need _you like I did before.”

“I...and you don’t want me,” Dean says softly.

Ginny laughs. “You don’t want me either, Dean.”

“I—”

“Do you want me or do you want to be needed?”

Dean looks shaken. He looks lost. He’ll grow too.

Ginny smiles and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Against his skin, she whispers, “It’s okay, Dean.”

When she pulls back, Dean looks at her.

“I forgive you,” he says.

“Thank you,” Ginny says, and she’s _ grateful_. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be okay,” he confirms. “I want to be friends with you. I do.”

“And we’ll be friends,” Ginny confirms. She leans in, wrapping her arms around him. He hugs her back, just as tightly. When they pull back, an idea occurs. “There’s a party in Slytherin tonight. For Samhain. Do you and Seamus want to be my friend-dates? I need to talk to him anyway.”

Dean grins. “_Yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, y'all. We're QUICKLY approaching the end, meaning there's one more chapter left!
> 
> As you can see, there was a brief POV change in the middle of this clip/chapter, which gives us a little insight into what's to come in Harry's story! I'm really excited for it, and I hope you liked that little glimpse.
> 
> NOW, I shall see you tonight for the MAIN EVENT!


	45. FRIDAY, 9:30PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we reach an end and a new beginning.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> "My friends, real friends, better than your friends, yeah  
That's how we keep popping out that Benz, yeah  
For friends, real friends, better than your friends, yeah  
That's them, that's them, they know all my business"
> 
> -FRIENDS, The Carters

“So, the password is _ ‘merry meet _’?” Ginny clarifies for the third time.

“Yeah,” Harry says with a confirming nod. He looks good, all black and tight trousers. His t-shirt is tucked in. He shifts, tucking a stray lock of wild hair behind his ear, as Ginny looks him up and down. “Sirius...Sirius bought this for me. I’ve never...worn it.”

“You look _good_,” Ginny drawls. She grins wolfishly. “Dressing up for anyone?”

“_No_,” Harry hisses, eyes darting around to see if anyone is listening in. But, Lavender is standing by the fire in her little black dress with Hermione and Ron. Ron is practically drooling, and Lavender’s finally convinced Hermione into a silky camisole that shows off her shoulders, tucked into jeans, and a pair of heeled boots that _have_ to belong to Lavender—they’re _cheetah print_.

“Sure, Harry,” Ginny teases.

Harry huffs and looks away. “Why do you need the password anyway?”

“I invited some friends.” On cue, Ginny turns to watch Seamus and Dean descend the steps. They look a little formal for a party, both in button-downs that are tucked in, but they look similarly good.

Ron drags his stare away from Lavender and glares at the pair.

“What are these two prats doing here?” Ron asks.

“I invited them,” Ginny calls.

Ron frowns.

“Are you sure?” Lavender asks.

“Yes. Now, go on ahead. We don’t want Luna wandering in circles around the castle. Crouch might try to give her detention even if it isn’t curfew yet,” Ginny says.

Harry nods in agreement and nods towards the door. “Alright, you lot. Let’s go find Luna,” he calls. He leans in to whisper in Ginny’s ear. “Do you need me to hex one of them?”

Ginny snorts. “I can take care of them all on my own. Don’t need a _ knight_, Harry.”

“Okay, you brat. I’m just trying to be a good friend,” Harry grins. He backs away, after giving both Seamus and Dean suspicious looks. He leads the crowd out and Ginny turns to face her friend dates.

“Hey, uh, Ginny,” Seamus mutters. “I just...thanks for inviting me after...you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Ginny drawls. “Say it for me, maybe.”

“After uh...treating you terribly. I was jealous of how much of Dean’s time you were taking up, so I...I lied,” Seamus admits. “I’m so sorry.”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “You should learn how to share your toys, Seamus,” she snaps. “And you’re lucky I’m so _ forgiving_.”

She turns to Dean and beams at him. Dean smiles back and leans in for a hug before he rocks up, holding his hands up.

“Boundaries,” he says.

Ginny nods her agreement. “Boundaries,” she says. “So, I have permission for this party. If we’re stopped in the hallway for any reason, I’ll just verify with the professor that Riddle put me down on the list. Hermione says any prefects patrolling also have lists of verified students.”

Seamus looks impressed that Ginny’s part of the _cool crowd_. It makes her roll her eyes. She leads them out the door, pausing only when she sees Romilda, Yacine, and Stella in the corner by the window. Romilda nods at her.

Ginny nods right back with a tiny smile.

Then, she leaves with Dean and Seamus following after her, and Ginny leads them down the steps. She wonders if she’ll catch up with Harry, Ron, and the others, but they’re probably already dancing in the dungeon by now, if Luna was at their meeting spot of the Entrance Hall.

“So…they throw this kind of party every year?” Seamus murmurs, mostly to Dean.

It’s Ginny that answers, nodding all knowledgeable like she’s in the know.

She guesses she kinda _is _in-the-know.

“They do. Slytherins usually follow the Old Ways. You know what that is, right?” Ginny asks. Seamus nods just as Dean shakes his head. Ginny nods, and carefully tucks her arms into Seamus’ and Dean’s arms. “Well, the Old Ways are our traditions. What you call Halloween, we used to call Samhain. It’s the night when the Veil between the living and the dead is the weakest. They don’t have permission to host it during the Halloween Feast, but Dumbledore let them have it the day after. It’s supposed to be Slytherin-exclusive.”

Dean’s mouth presses into a thin line. “I imagine that your invite was through Zabini.”

Seamus grimaces.

“Are we…are you sure _ we’re _welcomed?” Seamus adds.

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Well, first, if Zabini _ did _invite me, it wouldn’t be your business. Second, no, I was invited by Riddle.”

Seamus jerks out of her hold, turning to look at her with wide eyes.

“Do you _ know _Riddle?”

“Merlin, no,” Ginny sniffs. A sly smile crosses her face. “But, he _ wants _to know Harry Potter.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “And when you say ‘know’, you mean—”

“Acquaint himself,” Ginny says, electing to use Riddle’s own terminology. She leans in, like she means to whisper a secret. “He was rather impressed when Harry took him apart. He asked him out for drinks, and Harry turned him down. After he threatened you and Zabini and Malfoy, he invited me because he wanted Harry to be there tonight.”

Dean looks like he’s been hit over the head by a revelation, but he doesn’t say anything. Seamus, on the other hand, hems and haws at the very idea that Harry took down Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin.

“Riddle’s going to be the youngest Minister for Magic in history,” Seamus insists. “Do you know that he’s already been approached by at least three departments to work for them after he graduates?”

“I didn’t know you were a Riddle fan,” Ginny grins.

Seamus flushes. “I just have a lot of _ respect _for him.”

“What three departments?” Dean asks.

“The DMLE, the IMC, and _ Mysteries_,” Seamus says.

Ginny scoffs. “See, I doubt your intel. The thing about the Department of Mysteries is that everything they do is a _ mystery._ Including who works for them, Seamus,” Ginny teases, and Seamus shakes his head, leaning in.

“No! I really heard it! One of the Lestrange brothers, Rodolphus, said something about it, and Riddle hushed him apparently, and Rodolphus looked terrified,” Seamus insists.

Ginny shrugs. The Department of Mysteries wouldn’t let something out like that.

“If you say so, Seamus,” Ginny sighs.

She has her doubts, but if it’s true about anyone, it _ would _be about Riddle.

Nothing seems to touch him except prosperity. It’s honestly fucking annoying.

“Well, I heard that he’s going to accept an offer working in the Minister’s support staff as Junior Assistant,” Dean says.

_ This _piques Ginny’s interest.

“Right out of Hogwarts? Impossible!” Seamus says, shaking his head.

Before Ginny can add her two Knuts, they’re already descending the stairs into the dungeons. Ginny looks for the blank stretch of stone wall, and she finds it rather quickly between a portrait of Merlin and Phineas Nigellus Black.

“Okay so..._ merry meet! _”

There’s a cracking sound as the stones began to part, and Ginny’s excitement begins to mount as the stones open to reveal a long, dark pathway, lit only by a green ghoulish light. She leads them in, and the sound of music explodes almost immediately after crossing the threshold.

The Slytherin common room is a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire crackles under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and the common room is packed with Slytherins, and a few select Ravenclaws that Ginny recognizes.

“Wow. Why don’t we ever have parties like this?” Seamus asks.

“We do when we win Quidditch matches,” Dean says distractedly.

Ginny turns around and grabs both of their hands and grins. “Stop talking. Let’s _ dance! _”

* * *

_"Gon' pull me up, pull me up, pull me up_  
_And never let me drown (never let me down)_  
_Gon' pull me up, pull me up, pull me up_  
_I'll never hit the ground (never let me drown, never let me drown)"_

* * *

“Zabini,” Harry drawls, looking the bartender up and down.

This is the boy that was the meaning of temptation for Ginny. He’s handsome enough with his smooth dark skin and white teeth, and very sweet looking curls, but he’s not Harry’s type. He nods at Harry like he knows him, and Harry guesses that he does, in some capacity.

“Look, Potter, I’m not just handing out alcohol to anyone. Snape could show up at anytime, and I’m not trying to get detention. I get a manicure in Hogsmeade every two weeks, and I’m not trying to ruin my nails scrubbing cauldrons,” Zabini insists.

Harry wonders how he doesn’t ruin them on a daily basis doing basic tasks. Harry can barely write an essay without getting an ink stain on his shirt.

“Well, lucky for you, I just want a butterbeer.”

“On _ that_, I can deliver,” Zabini says and he ducks under the bar and slams a bottle down. He taps the cap with the end of his wand and pushes it forward.

Harry takes it and swallows the sweet, creamy liquid and sighs. He loves butterbeer.

He’s just getting ready to enjoy his ice-coldbutterbeer all by his lonesome when a shadow darkens his whole fucking night. Harry sighs as someone leans against the bar and practically looms. Harry is by no means _short_—Ginny is short, and Harry has more than a few centimeters on her, thank you ver much—but Harry has always thought Tom Riddle was unnecessarily tall.

But, Remus says it’s rude to ask someone if their height is a birth defect.

“Did you get my letter?” Riddle asks.

Harry’s cheeks burn at the memory. Harry’s name curving over the parchment and then: _ It would be an honour to have someone as lovely as you grace the presence of our common room. The password is ‘merry meet’. Faithfully yours— _

Harry snorts. ‘Faithfully’. Fuck Riddle.

“I heard you asked after me,” Harry says. He doesn’t look up from his butterbeer, because if he does, he’s going to want to say something that Riddle will make him regret.

Usually, that wouldn’t be a deterrent, but for some reason, his self-preservation sounds like Hermione and it’s screaming, _ HE’S OUR TA, HE CAN HAVE A NEGATIVE IMPACT ON OUR GRADES. _ Harry weighs the consequences. It’s true that Riddle is probably petty enough to attempt to fail him. It’s also true that _ Moony _is his professor, and Harry is fucking excellent at Defence.

He looks up from his drink and glares.

Riddle just looks amused.

“I was. I wanted to be sure that you’d be here. And here you are,” Riddle says.

“Don’t get too excited. I’m not here for you.”

Harry takes another sip of his butterbeer and turns to look over the bar, absently watching Zabini mix drinks. He looks over at Harry, his lips twisted with amusement. Harry rolls his eyes as he feels Riddle’s heat shift forward as the taller man leans against the bar. Harry sighs.

“Do you like the party?” Riddle asks.

Harry shrugs. “The hosts could be better,” he says scathingly, and very directly looks up at Riddle, eyes narrowed in a warning.

“What are you doing next Saturday?” Riddle asks.

“Saturday night detention.”

“Anything else on your list to-do?” Riddle asks with a charming smile.

Harry sneers. “Not you.”

Riddle’s lips twitch. “Are you sure about that, darling?”

_ Darling, _he calls Harry.

Harry has never been called that in his life.

He has _ never _heard Riddle call anyone that. 

And it terrifies him.

“_Look_, Riddle. I’m not interested in being one of your _ many _acquaintances,” Harry barks.

Riddle leans forward with that smirk on his face, that smirk that he thinks is charming, but Harry is just fucking _ annoyed _by it.

“Oh, Harry Potter. You’re a bright boy. You have to understand that every time you say no, I’m just more _ encouraged_.”

Harry scoffs. “What kind of circular logic is that?”

“When you finally say ‘yes’, it’ll be just _ that _more satisfying.”

Harry rolls his eyes so hard that he thinks they might just roll out.

“Good_ bye_, Riddle.”

Riddle stares at him even after his dismissal, and Harry sighs. The Slytherin is absolutely of the worst kind—an entitled brat that thinks his ancestry will get him places. It just so happens that Riddle is a Slytherin and an _ actual _Slytherin, so his ancestry just might get him somewhere far. And he knows it. He’s also the type of person that knows how good looking he is.

Harry’s lips curl over his teeth.

“Are we done now?” Harry barks.

“Not quite.”

Harry groans. “What _ now _?”

“It’s just…” and his hesitation seems calculated, that much Harry can read, “every time I look at you, I’m reminded of how fucking beautiful you are.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat.

He can’t breathe, and he feels his cheeks heating up, bright red in the magical strobe light.

Riddle smiles charmingly at him before toasting him with his Firewhiskey. He melts into the shadows, having the last word again, leaving to go do _ Merlin _knows what, leaving Harry at the bar.

Harry grabs at the bar to keep himself steady.

“You okay there, mate?” Ginny’s voice slithers into his ear. “A little weak-kneed?”

Harry turns to glare at her. “Oh, _ shut _it,” he snarls before stomping off.

He’s not fucking _ weak-kneed_. He’s fucking enraged.

_(He's lying. Or half-lying. After all, Harry never lies.)_

* * *

_"What would I be without my friends_  
_(What would I be without my friends)_  
_I ain't got no understanding_  
_(I ain't got no understanding)_  
_'Bout them, you might catch these hands_  
_We fall out and we make amends, yeah, yeah"_

* * *

Ginny is practically sweating as she finally pulls away from the dance floor. Dean was exchanging looks with a Slytherin girl, and Ginny has no interest in cockblocking him from that. She thinks she should be jealous, but really, she’s only pleased. Dean deserves happiness. She’d never begrudge him of that even if he wasn’t great for her.

Ginny spots Harry and raises her hand, preparing to call for him, and then stops, when he suddenly looks up and Ginny notices who’s standing next to him.

Riddle really is incredibly tall. He’s taller than Harry by about a head. They’d look good together if Riddle wasn’t such a pompous asshole.

Ginny creeps closer to see if Harry needs any back up.

And then, she hears Riddle say: “It’s just…every time I look at you, I’m reminded of how fucking beautiful you are.”

She grins as she watches Harry’s scowl drop.

His lips part and she can practically hear the sharp inhale. Riddle’s smirk goes from serpentine to wolfish; he knows he’s got him. He toasts Harry with his Firewhiskey and disappears back into the crowd, leaving Harry to grip at the bar like he isn’t ready to just drop his trousers for Tom fucking Riddle.

“You okay there, mate?” she teases. “A little weak-kneed.”

Harry gathers his wits, and glares at her. “Oh, _ shut _it,” he barks before he storms off into the opposite direction of Riddle, probably to find Ron and Hermione and to rant at them about what’s just happened.

Or maybe not. Harry’s been surprisingly quiet about the whole Riddle thing.

But, it’s none of Ginny’s business anyway.

She turns her attention back to the bar and exchanges grins.

“Well, hello there, barkeep,” Ginny greets. “Did you find that just as entertaining as I did?”

“Oh, I did,” Zabini grins. “Riddle wants Potter?”

“Desperately, it seems,” Ginny snorts. She rolls her eyes. “Riddle’s in for a world of disappointment then.”

“Bet you’re wrong,” Zabini says.

Ginny laugh. “Bet you I’m right.”

“Hmm stakes?” Zabini asks.

Ginny rolls her eyes again. “I don’t know. You tell me, stalker.”

Zabini leans over the bar as he finishes mixing up whatever was in his cauldron. Ginny looks down into the plastic goblet and sees that it’s unicorn blood. She takes it, toasts him, and takes a long sip. It’s nowhere as good as Turpin’s, but there’s something uniquely different. She thinks it’s because Zabini made it for _ her_.

“A date. You and me,” Zabini says.

Ginny raises an eyebrow as she looks at him. She glances back over her shoulder. She catches a glimpse of Dean, wrapped around some seventh year Slytherin girl. He catches her eye and almost falters, but Ginny just as grins at him and offers a wink. Dean grins back and plunders the girl’s mouth again. Ginny looks back at Zabini, but he looks vaguely unimpressed.

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” Ginny declares.

Zabini laughs. “And I’m not looking for a girlfriend,” he retorts. Ginny raises an eyebrow. “So…will you go on a date with me?”

Ginny stares at Zabini for a long time. He’s going to keep her on her toes.

Her fascination with him grew out of lust, but she thinks she could actually grow to like him. He’s witty and smart-mouthed and kind. He’d cared when she was sad, and hated Dean when he saw that Dean was the reason. Zabini didn’t give a damn about Quidditch, but knew enough to know that she was _ good_.

And yet.

“Raincheck?” she asks.

She waits for Zabini’s vitriol, cruelty off his tongue.

Zabini just smiles. “I think you’d be worth standing in the rain.”

Ginny’s cheeks burn red, and she grins up at him, toasting him with her drink. He salutes her, swinging his wand at his brow. Ginny laughs and turns around, her eyes searching the sea of Slytherins. Her gaze passes right over Draco Malfoy where Parkinson is tucked under his arm. He sneers at her, but Ginny looks right past him at her _ friends_.

Harry’s hand is tight around the neck of his butterbeer, but he seems to be smiling uncertainly as Lavender waves her hands dramatically at him. Hermione and Luna are twisting to the music, swaying from side to side, and Ron towers over them all. He catches sight of her first.

Ginny runs to them.

As she joins them, she jumps up and practically tackles Ron. Ron stumbles under her weight.

“Ugh, _ Ginny! _” Ron groans as he spills a butterbeer all over his hand. He raises his hand to lick off some of the residue, but a disgusted look from Lavender seems to quell his more childish nature.

“You got a _ drink _?” Lavender asks, envious.

Ginny offers it to share and Lavender takes a grateful sip. “Yeah, Zabini is manning the bar.”

“Ooooh,” Luna coos, giggling. “Are you going to date now?”

Ginny shrugs. “Maybe. Not right now, though. Why bother?” she asks.

“What do you mean ‘why bother’?” Ron demands. “Didn’t you go through this whole thing with Dean because of him?”

Hermione scoffs, shaking her head. “She doesn’t need a man if she doesn’t want one. And another boy doesn’t need to be the reason she breaks up with someone. Ginny is complete and whole and amazing all on her own.”

Ginny grins at her and loops her arm through Hermione’s. “Hermione is, as always, _ correct _!” she cheers.

Hermione laughs, and Lavender grins along until she jerks and stands up, straighter, eyes trained on something coming their way. Harry seems to shift out of his sullenness, panic spreading on his face as Riddle cuts through the crowd like a wraith. He approaches them with a glint in his eye, and Ginny raises an eyebrow.

Riddle looks at all of them and nods.

“Thank you for accepting my invitation,” Riddle says, looking each of them in the eye. Hermione looks surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Riddle’s gaze catches on Harry for just a beat longer before he turns to Lavender. “Hello.”

Lavender swallows. “H-hello,” she stammers.

“Lavender Brown, Gryffindor,” Riddle announces, staring Lavender in the eye. He takes her hand in both of his, and somehow, despite his staggering height, looks at her from beneath the fringe of his eyelashes. Voice dripping with sincerity, he says, “I apologize for the way I treated you. It was...unbecoming.”

Lavender’s jaw practically drops as she stares up at Riddle, starry-eyed and sweet.

“O-okay…” she stammers, looking around as if she can’t tell if this is reality or not. She looks down at where Riddle is still holding her hand, and her cheeks burn bright even in the low lighting.

“I hope that you won’t hold it against me,” Riddle says, and when he finally drops her hand, Lavender’s hovers in the air until she snatches it back against her chest and flushes even brighter, practically squirming.

Riddle smiles winningly down at her, side steps her. Almost immediately, Luna and Hermione are at Lavender’s sides, whispering in her ear, as Lavender starts to vibrate, like she’s holding in a shriek of joy in her chest. Ron looks angry. But, it’s Harry that Ginny keeps her eye on as Riddle passes by.

Ginny’s eyes widen as Riddle winks at Harry. Harry sneers back, and then turns to meet her eyes. He dares her to say something.

Ginny doesn’t.

She’s barely got time for her own drama, let alone someone else’s.

So, instead of saying anything, she grabs her brother’s hand, and she grabs Luna’s. Luna takes Lavender’s hand. Ron takes Harry’s. Harry takes Hermione’s. Ginny grabs the link of them out where the music is loudest.

Ginny jumps, and laughs, and dances, and wonders, _ What would she be without her friends? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, the story of cherry bomb is over. We end with Ginny having lost a boyfriend, but finding herself and a lifetime of friendship.
> 
> Ginny Weasley means an immense amount to me. This story is a love letter to the young teenage MMC, lost in high school, unsure of who I wanted to be outside of the wide abstract of the world. And now, I know who I am and I wanted to give Ginny a story that paid attention to her, and treated her like the main character of her story instead of just a love interest in someone else's.
> 
> I hope I achieved that.
> 
> NEXT: euphoria (coming Nov. 11)

**Author's Note:**

> So, this came out of my unabashed love of Ginny Weasley and SKAM.
> 
> SKAM is a Norwegian show known for its really awesome format. Clips drop at the time of day when things are occurring. This fanfic will function the same way. So, you might get a ‘clip’ once a day. Or you might not get one for days at a time. There might even be a hiatus. I will be following a three-season format of SKAM as well with our mains being: Ginny, Harry, and Hermione.
> 
> But, it’s our first main’s turn.
> 
> Introducing: Ginny Weasley.
> 
> My love of Ginny Weasley has always been understated, but as I grow older, I love her more and more. She’s tough and sure and can hold her own. But, I wanted to explore her in the context of becoming. The journey in the books showed her going from giggly fangirl to the tough badass that she is. In this fic, I go about that same journey.
> 
> Each chapter will range from around 800-2000 words, though Friday chapters will usually be much longer, from 4000-6000 words. Hope you'll have fun!
> 
> I want to thank my LOVELY, LOVELY beta of Unplanned fame, exarite. SHOW HER SOME LOVE!
> 
> This is HEX. Welcome.


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